Ready To Go
by uniquefreak13
Summary: One shots featuring Mona Ryder, better known as Owlet on the streets of Gotham. Most one shots will be fluff, be some will be more serious. I take requests :D
1. Expect the Unexpected

AN: Sometimes I get a little fed up when Bruce acts so high and mighty like he knows everything just cuz he's the goddamn Batman, so I thought someone ought to put him in his place, and who better to than Owlet? This would be set in that last week of Mona's recovery from the beating from Fincher. Please read and review.

Expect the Unexpected

It was a dark and cold night in Gotham, like almost all the other nights it had. Thick clouds of smog drifted across the sky thanks to various contributors of pollution the city had though no one seemed to care about the wear it was doing on our planet. I pulled my eyes away from the starless sky to see the Dark Knight and the Boy Wonder standing before me. Batman scowled in greeting while Robin gave a little knowing smirk. It had been about a week since my encounter with Fincher and his escape from police custody. Bruce had promised to train me up so I'd be ready not only for patrol in the city but for the next time I met up with Fincher though he wouldn't let me even get into my new owl suit until I'd healed up properly. I supposed it was a fair trade but I couldn't help but be grumbly. I had started to think of the suit as an extension of myself, like it was actually my wings and not just some magic suit that allowed me to fly over my hometown. Without the suit I felt awkward and clumsy, naked and incomplete as if the suit was part of what made me Mona.

"This may be your first lesson, but don't expect me to go easy on you, Owlet." Batman's deep voice resonated throughout the night, echoing over the empty rooftops. "And on the topic of expectations, this one thing you always need to keep in mind: Expect the unexpected."

"Sounds easy enough," I said idly, sitting on the wall of the roof, kicking my feet. "What's next?"

"It's not as simple as saying ok and going on with life, you need to be trained to handle situations in which you are not anticipating the events but able to bend the outcome to your will." Batman's voice was a growl now; it didn't take an idiot to tell I'd annoyed him.

"I beg to differ, Batman. You can't train for everything, sometimes you have to improvise, right?" I asked sincerely. I stood, brushing the legs of my suit off.

"Only if you have to. It's better to analyze the situation and take advantage of it."

"So do you always expect the unexpected, Batman?" My voice took on an innocent tone though my intentions were anything but. I wanted to make the big bad bat slip up, to admit that he wasn't right. I'd seen Bruce Wayne under that cowl so I knew he was human like those he protected; I just had to get him to act like it.

"Do you think I'd be telling you what to do if I didn't already do it myself?" he said roughly as if I'd questioned his authority as Batman.

"It was just an innocent question, Bats." I rocked back and forth on my heels waiting for a straight answer.

"Yes, Owlet. I always expect the unexpected," he sighed tiredly, rubbing his temples through his cowl.

"You ever tested that?" I asked, flapping my wings so I'd glide a few feet towards the Dynamic Duo. I faced Batman with Robin standing next to me, giving me a strange look.

"There's no need," he answered. "Are you going to stop fooling around anytime soon or can we just forget this?" He gave me the infamous Batglare and it took all I had not to shrink under its power (you might think it's just a look, but you've never been on its receiving end, now have you?)

"If the Batman can't even prove that he follows his own rule why should I let him teach me? I'm sure I can find some other ninja warrior in a costume to learn from." I crossed my arms over my chest, cocking an eyebrow though it wasn't seen through my cowl.

"Owlet…" Robin said his voice low and warning. He put a hand on my forearm.

"Do you always expect the unexpected?" I rounded on him. "Because I don't think it's possible. That's the whole thing about the unexpected; you're not supposed to expect it, so telling anyone to is relatively pointless. Watch." I grabbed Robin by the shoulders, pulling him into an impromptu kiss, holding it there for a moment before breaking away. I looked victoriously at Batman who seemed shocked for a moment before wiping the look off his face in an instant. "See? Neither of you expected that. I rest my case."

The two were completely silent for a moment before Batman cleared his throat. "Point taken. Let's continue." The Dark Knight took ahold of his cape, swinging it around him. He practically went invisible for a moment, blending in completely with the night as he jumped over the side of the building. He shot his grappling gun line and swung to grab onto the side of another building's edifice, waiting expectantly for us. I made my way to the edge of the roof, about to jump off when Robin grabbed my arm.

I turned to look at him, somehow assuming I'd see Dick's beautiful blue eyes but was only met with the opaque lenses of the domino mask. "Yes, Batboy?" I asked playfully.

"I'm not opposed to you catching me off guard, but the next time you do, please don't do it in front of the Boss." He gave a serious yet kidding half-smirk and made his way off the rooftop with a jump, flipping expertly in the air before deploying his own grappling line.

"Just gotta love how he expects there's a next time," I allowed myself a smug look before hopping off the building, following the bat and the bird with my own set of wings.


	2. We Don't Eat Our Lab Partners

AN: This little one shot is set when Mona is 7 years old, so we'll actually get to see her react with her parents a little bit more than that one sentence her dad had in the first chapter! Yay! Instead of being in first person or Mona's perspective as it always is, this will be just plain narrated (I hope I pulled it off well…) And I have no idea how good this will be because I've never written for a 7 year old… but anyways, this one shot will explain why Mona is a vegetarian, which is nothing like how I became a vegetarian (but this is much cuter). Please read and review!

We Don't Eat Our Lab Partners

It had been a relatively important day at the Ryder's mansion. Important for a few reasons actually, considering Jonathan and Melanie Ryder had made some considerable success in their experiment at giving humans chicken DNA. Little Mona Ryder could've cared less about why or how her parents had succeeded, because today was her birthday, her 7th birthday to be exact. She was a big girl now, according to her parents. She liked the way "big girl" sounded but when she told Carolina about it her friend had only laughed and started using big and intimidating words like "responsibility" and "disappointment". Mona tried not to let it faze her, however. The 7 year old was determined to have a good day by sharing her parent's enthusiasm as well as reveling in her own. The girl's day was completely stellar until it was time for dinner with her parents and her governess, Jilliane Conrad.

"What's for dinner, Mamma?" Mona chirped in her high pitched little girl voice, climbing lithely into her chair at the dining table. She had always been a small child and though she sat up as tall as she could go, Mona was cut off at the neck as she sat in her chair.

"I made a special recipe for my birthday girl." The loving mother ruffled her daughter's hair as she passed her on the way to the kitchen. "It's a surprise!"

Mona gave a little scowl but was immediately filled with adrenalin. She had always loved surprises, especially ones from her parents because they always had the most interesting things Mona could ever imagine. The 7 year old sat on her hands, waiting impatiently for her parents and governess to come to the table for dinner. It was an agonizing 5 minutes for the hyperactive mind of the child, but her mother and father finally came to the table with a covered dish, Jilliane following closely behind.

"I got this recipe from my mother, Mona," Melanie Ryder explained, opening the lid to show golden brown pieces of chicken, seasoned perfectly and looking especially delectable in the dining room's dim lights. At least, to Mona's father and nanny the chicken looked delicious. Mona, on the contrary, was having a hard time keeping her long forgotten lunch down as the color drained from her face. Like the good parents they were, her mother and father reacted instantly.

"What's wrong, Mona?" her father asked, reaching over to feel her forehead. "Are you coming down with something?"

"Daddy, is that chicken?" she asked quietly, her small voice the only sound in the silent and confused room.

"Yes," he answered, furrowing his eyebrows, wondering where Mona was going with this. Mona used to love eating chicken, especially in the nugget form.

Tears welled up in the little girl's yellow-brown eyes that shocked all three of the adults in the room. Without warning Mona burst into tears, pitifully sobbing into the cream colored table cloth. Her mother was next to her in a heartbeat, gathering the girl into her arms without a second thought, cradling her against her neck as if she was 3 instead of 7.

"Mona, what's wrong?" her mother probed cautiously, her voice tender and soft. The crying girl sniffled into her mother's shoulder, moaning something that was unintelligible to everyone.

"Mona, my dear," her dad cooed, getting out of his chair to rub her back soothingly. "We can't hear you when you're crying."

The girl sat up in her mother's lap, propped up on the woman's knees. She wiped at her red eyes with a closed fist, hiccupping a bit with a little yelp. "I don't wanna eat the chicken, Momma," she sniffed in a pitiful voice.

"You don't have to," her mother smiled at her kindly. "But I thought you liked chicken, Mona."

The little girl shook her head violently, crossing her arms over her chest and adopting a stubborn look on her face. "No," was all she replied.

"What happened, kiddo?" Her father attempted to pry an answer from her. The 7 year old gave a little glare to him.

"I don't wanna eat the chicken 'cuz you guys told me that when we work with people we hafta be nice to them." The child's answer perplexed her parents and the adults shared a collective look of cluelessness.

"We don't know what you mean by that, Mona," Jilliane piped up, the words lilting strangely with her British accent.

"We don't eat our lab partners!" Mona cried out, tears beginning to stream down her face once more. It clicked for her parents then and they shared a knowing look of panic over their child's head before comforting her once more.

"This isn't the same chicken that we used in the experiment, Mona."

"It duzzn't matter, they were probably brother and sister chickens and now one of them is dead and the other one is probably really really sad because someone else is gonna eat them too, just like when you guys used cow NDA-"

"DNA," her father corrected helpfully but the girl didn't even pause to acknowledge it, continuing with her rant.

"-and when I wanted to go see the cow the week after Carolina told me it got sent to a mill!" The little girl, thankfully, didn't know exactly what a "mill" was, but she knew that hamburgers (though having "ham" in the name) were made from cows, showing the young girl that in order to eat at a fast food restaurant a cow had to give its life.

"So you don't want to eat anything that animals have to die for?" her mother asked. Mona nodded firmly, her jaw set now that her speech was over.

"That's called being a vegetarian, Mona," her father told her supportively. "When people don't eat red meat or poultry, and sometimes fish or eggs."

Mona's face scrunched up as she thought, her lips mouthing the word "vegetarian" without her knowing it, very slowly putting each syllable to memory. "Why wouldn't people eat fish?" she asked suddenly.

"Because they're living creatures, too," her mother responded.

"Nuh-uh," Mona argued, adopting a superior look on her young face, her tears now dry. "Fish don't have souls." Her parents couldn't help themselves as they burst into happy laughter at the girl's explanation. Mona, however, looked only thoroughly peeved at their reaction.

"Ok, Mona," her father finally said, recovering from the laughing fit first. "It's your choice to be a vegetarian."

"I know," the little girl said cheekily not even realizing how rude the response might've sounded had she been 5 or more years older. "I'm not gonna eat my friends cuz they help you guys with your work, and if I ate one of your lab assistants I don't think you guys would be very happy either." Mona hopped off her mother's lap then, heading to the kitchen to look for something else to eat, leaving the room behind her in a stunned silence.


	3. Hoo

AN: I honestly have no idea where this idea came from, but it made me laugh so I hope you guys do too :D Read and Review, please and gracias.

Owls That Don't "Hoo"

It was one of those awkwardly quiet Gotham nights when all the small-time criminals were at home nursing their wounds while the big-time criminals were plotting their next moves. It was nights like these that I kind of liked because they made Gotham seem almost like a city that wasn't completely rotted to the core with crime. I let a smile grace my face as I flew over a middle-class neighborhood, mulling over the thought, letting it give me a good feeling in the pit of my stomach. At least, until I heard the scream and the gun shot that resonated throughout the air. I responded almost immediately, quickly banking down to get a closer look of the neighborhood. It was then that I saw a man in black, running from the area between two houses, a bright pink purse clutched in his meaty hands. I scowled, heading towards the area he'd run from to see if anyone had been hurt.

My eyes adjusted to the dark soon after I'd landed, showing me a cowering girl hiding in the shadows. She looked up as she heard me approaching, fear crossing her face before turning to relief. I hated to say it, but I loved that relieved look people in danger would give me when they saw me coming, a familiar figure they could associate with help and with justice. That single look made me feel like I was actually doing my job as a crime fighter well. If people could synonymize me with help or rescue, my life was pretty much made.

The girl looked to be 13 with tears streaming down her face with her hair hanging lankily into her eyes. She appeared to be quite shaken but otherwise unharmed. I bent down to her level, trying to seem less intimidating (though I was sure we were about the same height if we had stood back to back).

"Are you ok?" I asked. She nodded shakily, struggling to form words.

"H-he stole my purse," she admitted sheepishly, looking down at her hands. They were dirty as if she'd been clawing around in the mud.

"Go somewhere safe, I'll get him." I gave her my best reassuring smile before running back into the night, taking flight within seconds. Once I was back in the air it was almost too easy to locate the man because he'd been dumb enough to stand under a street lamp a few blocks away, rifling through the bag's contents. With a well-placed landing I perched myself atop the lamp he was under, making a claw gesture with my hand and sticking it in front of the bulb. I got the effect I wanted: a seriously freaked out thief, looking around him as if expecting monsters to hop out of the shadows. Instead, I swooped down to stand before him, giving a good attempt at the Bat-glare (in my opinion, anyway). He let out a shocked yell, dropping the bag as he stumbled backward a few feet. He reached for a gun tucked into his back pocket but I easily knocked it out of his hand with a flick of my wrist and a Batarang.

"Picking on little girls? That's so 1952, dude," I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "What a sub-par attempt at crime."

"Who-who are you?" he cried, holding his hand that I'd hit with the Batarang.

I couldn't help but let my jaw drop. "You don't know who I am? At all?"

He shook his head. "I've never seen you. Are you like a washed out Batgirl?"

I gritted my teeth, pointing a threatening finger at him. "_Never_ call me Batgirl. My name is Owlet, you idiot."

"Owlet? Like a baby owl?"

"You better start choosing your words more carefully, guy. I'm easily upset and you're not doing much for my nerves."

The man didn't heed my warning. "So, do you like, 'Hoo'?" he asked.

I blinked, taken aback by the odd question. "What?"

"You know, like an owl," he explained, making little hoo-ing noises.

"Do you think Batman uses echolocation at night just because he'd dressed like a giant bat?" I demanded, seething as I did so.

"Well… no. But hoo-ing just seems so much simpler." He got a strange look on his face as if imagining me hoo-ing before I pounced on my criminals. He quickly shook it off. "I still think you look like a Batgirl. You've got the pointy ears and everything."

It was then that I full on punched the guy in the face, knocking him unconscious as he fell into a rough patch of stubbly February grass. I looked down at him, scowling as I did so. I picked up the purse, making my way back to the girl it'd been stolen from.

And, mostly to myself in the circling shadows, I spat "I am _**not**_ Batgirl."


	4. Mercenary

AN: I decided to put together a list of songs that I believe fit in somehow with the DC Universe and write a little one shot on them, I'll just go in order of them on my playlist. The only thing it really has to do with the song is the last line, but I like the way I put it in there so :P Enjoy?

Mercenary- Panic! At the Disco:

"There's an emergency down in the cafeteria." The Vice-Principal was pretty awful at keeping her voice down as she cried out the sentence as I passed the main office coming from the library. She had always seemed birdlike to me so the exclamation came out sounding like a squawk, a desperate and scared squawk, but a squawk nonetheless.

"What kind of emergency?" the Principal replied. He had a deep voice that seemed to echo even when he wasn't on the microphone in the auditorium.

"It's Two Face, sir!" Vice-Principal Bird yelled. "He's rampaging around the entire commons area! We need to call the police!"

"Sounds like a job for a secret vigilante I know," I muttered to myself with a small smile, slipping into the conveniently placed girl's rest room by the main office. I had made a habit of keeping my suit on my in times like these where crises popped up and the police would never arrive in time. I stashed my backpack behind the cleanest toilet I could find, slipping out of my uniform and into my owl suit like it was second nature. The change took less than 2 minutes, a time I was very proud of considering in the field villains wouldn't give you much time to go from civilian to crime-fighter, if any at all.

I slipped out the bathroom window, letting the highly placed exit give me a bit of height so I could glide to the front of the building instead of having to run all the way there. A helpful gust of wind blew me down and I landed on my feet in front of the school, skidding a foot or two as people gawked at me as if I had come from Mars (actually, considering there's a couple of Martians who work with the Justice League I'm not sure that's the best metaphor). I gave a devious smile to all of them before rushing inside to see the carnage that Two Face had brought with him.

The entire commons area was a mess, broken glass from the trophy case strewn on the floor, large sections of burned wall from a flame-thrower Two Face was wielding as well as crazed kids running around screaming that they were all going to die. Honestly I'd seen 7 year olds face danger better than these upperclassmen. I sighed to myself, hitting the small hidden button on the side of my cowl that activated the comms unit.

"Robin, I'm not sure if you know yet, but there's a situation in the commons. Two Face decided to come back to high school and man, he's flunking hard."

"Already ahead of you," a devilish voice said next to me as the Boy Wonder leapt down from a higher perch he'd obtained before I'd arrived.

"Gee, sorry, I wasn't trained by the most epic ninja crime fighter in the world without powers or meta-abilities." I rolled my eyes. "So what's the plan of action?"

"You wanna go for Two Face? I've been noticing that Bats only lets you take out the goons and never lets you handle the head-honcho. Want to give it a try?" Robin offered, making the conversation sound casual as if we were discussing what dress I should wear to one of Bruce's dinner parties.

"Sounds great. You'll be there to help if I need it?" I looked to him for confirmation.

"I'm insulted you have to ask." He gave a signature grin before leaping off to stop one of Two Face's minions from throwing a bomb into the kitchens. I sighed, squeezing my hands into fists before taking a running jump and flying in the air towards the ugly criminal.

His back was to me as I flew and it wasn't until I landed, kicking him in the back in the process, that he actually noticed my existence. The kick to his back did little to subdue him, though a lot to piss him off. He stumbled forward a few feet then whirled around. The left side of his face was even uglier in person with his skin a reddish pink color, pinched up at the places where his cheeks met his mouth, nose, and eye. The lips on his left side pulled up giving the man an appearance of having an extremely scary smile on forever.

"Oh, I think I've heard of you…" his voice was calm and soothing, one I knew to be Harvey Dent's, the man he was before Two Face ever came to be. "You're that Owl Girl, aren't you?"

"I see someone's been keeping up with the local news," I replied sarcastically. "People usually call me Owlet."

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Owlet. It's frigid in here and you're looking a bit chilly, let me help WARM YOU UP!" The last part of his sentence switched from the even voice to a crazed cackling one that chilled me to the very core. He aimed the flame-thrower at me, squeezing the trigger just after I'd found the brain cells to tell me body to get away. I somersaulted to my right, landing in a crouched position a few feet from where I'd started. With the blast Two Face had completely melted the Gotham Academy trophy case. The hard won trophies were now reduced to a big gooey mess that dripped down onto the usually pristine tile floors of the private school. I looked over behind Two Face to see Principal Deep Voice as well as Vice-Principal Bird, looking at the destruction in horror. No, not the destruction of the well-used commons area of the school that doubled as the cafeteria and a place for students to hang out in the morning. They were gawking at what was left of the trophy case which had been their personal bragging rights. Suddenly their eyes locked on me as Two Face tried to shoot me once more. This time I moved in a flash and appeared next to them as quick as a wink.

"Sorry about the wreck this is turning out to be, but you can understand its always messy dealing with super-criminals, right?" I gave the two a large and charming smile as they only stared at me in horror as if I was the one who'd been responsible for the damage done to the school. Inwardly I sighed. No matter how much good you did for the community as a vigilante the best thing you could do is dodge the blast and apologize for the collateral damage.


	5. Team Work

AN: So I love Young Justice, and I wanted Owlet to meet them, so I wrote this a while ago. Review or message me if you want me to write the rest of it or not. Please enjoy!

Team Work

"Team, welcome your new member: Owlet." Batman introduced me to the group of heroes and I tried to meet all their curious looks with my own defiant one.

"Wasn't she that girl who trashed the HAVEN headquarters?" Kid Flash asked. I couldn't help but smirk.

"Nice to see someone's familiar with my work." I could hear Batman give a soft groan.

"I know you'll all welcome her, and respect her identity." The Batman looked over the team with his steely glare behind his whites out cowl. The entire team seemed to get the nonverbal warning. "I'm sure the team can introduce themselves." Batman walked away without another word.

"Well, bats it's a character but we can't live without him." The speedster smiled cockily at me, flirting without really trying. "I'm Wally, Kid Flash, but I'm sure you already knew that."

I put on a clueless expression. "Kid who?" His face automatically fell to a frown. "I'm just messing with you."

"I'm M'Gann! But you can call me Megan." The Martian girl from the back of the pack flew forward. "I'm so glad we have another girl on the team!"

"Batman told me this might only be temporary. He put me here to keep me out of the way in Gotham," I admitted with a shrug.

"Well, were still glad you're here, right guys?" M'Gann looked back at the team who all nodded lamely.

"So who's the leader here?" I asked. A tall, slim boy to my right walked forward. He had chocolate colored skin with strange tattoos swirling around his biceps and forearms.

"My name is Kaldur'Ahm; I am the leader of this team." His voice was very smooth and even, calming and in control at the same time.

I looked to Dick, I mean Robin, giving him a look that obviously said I expected it to be him. He gave a sigh. "I'll lead the team when I'm ready to. For now Kaldur is the best leader."

A green clad girl with a quiver of arrows strapped to her back spoke up. "My name is Artemis, like the goddess."

"Convenient, considering she was the Greek goddess of the hunt." Artemis looked only slightly impressed at my outside knowledge.

"This is Connor," Megan said, hanging onto the boy's muscular arm. It couldn't be more obvious they were a thing.

"I don't know what to tell you all to call me." I shrugged. "Not very many good nicknames for Owlet. Or really any at all."

"We could call ya Owlie," Wally suggested. I rolled my eyes under the cowl.

"Please excuse him, he's often the bringer often ridicule for this team," Artemis said with playful contempt laced through her voice. Wally glared at her, turning a bright red like his suit, but uttered no comeback.

"So what kind of missions do you guys go on?" I asked trying to break the awkward tension I'd brought with my arrival.

"Well, we've done recon and stealth; those are probably this biggest two." Megan said, listing them off in her fingers.

"Don't forget the types of missions where we're told to do something and we all mess it up at one point in time yet still get the naive done," Wally drawled from the kitchen, a half-eaten banana in his hand as he tried to talk through the other half.

Artemis rolled her eyes but Dic- ROBIN chuckled. "It's true," he said.

"What do you do here on downtime?"

"Well, there's the beach, training, Megan cooks, and Supey watches TV. There's a ton to do around here." Robin answered for the team.

"That's good, because apparently I'm going to have to live here for now. Batman didn't think my last caretaker had a suitable environment for me."

"Who was your last caretaker?" Wally asked, suddenly next to me. I couldn't help but jump at his appearance.

"Catwoman." I shrugged casually like it was no big deal. Another awkward silence settled upon the team and I knew they were wondering now whether they could trust me or not. But as I analyzed them I could see their stances and expressions change, like they were having a mental conversation with one another.

"Just because I bunked with her that doesn't make me evil. I understand that you guys are wary of me, but I've never been a real part of a team, so I'm not going to try anything stupid to screw up your trust in me, even if I am only here temporarily."

"I've worked with her for about 6 months now, she knows mine and Batman's identities and the location of the Batcave. She could have spilled any of that information to Catwoman or any of other criminal but she didn't. She's saved my life before and is trust her with it again." Robin's voice was supportive, filling the air of Mount Justice with defiance. I smiled sideways at him seeing the familiar glint in his eyes that is come to know and love.

"He's got a point. We shouldn't write her off before we even got to know her." Artemis surprised me by speaking up, and apparently most of the team shared my initial shock.

"Thanks, I'm not going to let you guys down." As I smiled at the team sirens began to go off in the cave. A large holographic screen lit up in the middle of the training area. Batman's face filled the screen looking surly and serious as per usual.

"There's been a disturbance at the address listed below in Gotham City. I need you guys to go check it out. Owlet, its familiar turf for you, so you can focus on working with the team." Batman's message ended abruptly making the cave go dark once more.

"Awesome, new mission!" Kid Flash cheered. "To the Bio-ship!"

"The what?" I asked, bewildered.

"You'll see. Just follow me." Robin grabbed my hand and we followed the group down the halls of the mountain. We entered a large garage area with a landing pad as well as a small dock area. A ship appeared seemingly out of nowhere, materializing on the landing area. A hatch on the front opened and the team began to file in. I looked at Robin uncertainly but he only gave me a supportive squeeze, quickly diminishing my uncertainties. I followed my fellow heroes onto the ship, seeing Megan in the middle of the ship like a girl, Martian Captain Kirk. Seats surrounded Megan and the team began to take their spots, apparently not noticing there wasn't a chair for me. I stood awkwardly off to the side.

Megan noticed me first. "Hello, Megan!" She chided herself, hitting a palm to her forehead. "Let me get a seat for you." The girl closed her eyes, placing her hands on the armrests to either side of her, in deep concentration. A moment later a whole chair seemed to grow out of the floor of the ship right in front of Kid Flash. I sat and straps materialized around me, pulling me to the seat.

"Well, that's certainly new," I commented, fighting the force down a freak out that was trying to surface.

"It takes a little time to get used to," Kid Flash leaned forward, his head next to mine as he talked. "But I'll be here every step of the way for moral support."

"That's good to know. You can never have enough moral support." I smiled at him, turning to look at him, our faces only inches from each other.

"Guys, stop flirting. We need to focus." Instead of Kaldur chiding us it was Robin, glaring at us from across the ship.

"Whatever you say, Boy Wonder." I smirked at Robin, facing forward in my seat.

"Ok, let's go!" Megan announced. She revved up the ship and it shot forward through the already open door of the hanger. My knuckles were white on the control panel in front of me; I could feel myself going pale as the ship reached higher altitudes. The contents of my stomach shifted as the ship turned every so often, course correcting on its way to Gotham. After a few minutes I felt like I was going to vomit, my panic not the only thing I tried to force down. It seemed to be hours later when we touched down in my "fair" city of Gotham. The moment the hatch opened up to the world, I bolted for the door, running into the foggy night.

Megan had landed in the rarely used Gotham Park, though location didn't matter much to me. As soon as I reached the tree lines I hunched over and threw up my stomachs contents. The sour taste of bile pervaded my mouth making me gag even after I'd puked. It had been a few years since the last time is vomited, and I wished I hadn't revisited the action. The act of being suck made me even sicker. I walked back to the Bio-ship in embarrassment as my new team mates gawked at me. Robin appeared to be cracking up while everyone else looking confused.

"I've never been on a plane before," I shrugged lamely.

"So you can fly over Gotham every night with a thin suit as your only protection, but you can't ride in a flying ship without puking?" Robin laughed.

"Oh shut up," I said, punching Dick in the shoulder. He didn't seem to be fazed by it. "I've never flown in a plane or anything before. You can't blame me for getting airsickness!"

"Nobody is blaming you, Owlet, but we need to focus in the mission." Kaldur took charge, uniting the group by stepping in the middle of us.

"Wait, I don't know all your hero names." I looked from person to person, somehow not remembering their names from the tabloids.

"Aqualad, Kid Flash, Artemis, Miss Martian, Superbly, Robin, Owlet. We done here?" Robin pointed to each person as he quickly spewed their names.

"Excellent. Miss Martian, you and Owlet do surveillance from the air. Try to see what the situation is. Robin and Kid Flash will go in from the ground while Artemis and Superboy stay in the park to watch from a distance. We do not yet know how much of a threat this disturbance is." I was surprised how smoothly Kaldur ordered us, how eloquent and orderly he was at keeping the team on track.

"Let's do this." Kid Flash tapped the lightning emblem in the front of his suit, turning it from the bright red and yellow to a midnight black. I noticed Aqualad and Miss Martian had done the same, going into stealth mode.

"Ok, that's officially so cool!" I exclaimed quietly, following Miss Martian into the air. I felt a bit slow as she easily rose into the air whole I had to take a running start to fly. It was a rather cool night in Gotham so I was forced to flap my wings to rise to Megan's height, feeling like a strange, out of place bird. Once I had gotten to gliding height I was able to straighten out, getting better flying form.

"_Is everybody linked?_" a voice in my head asked. A small yelp escaped me as I faltered in the air, falling a few feet in surprise.

"What the hell was that?" I asked out loud. Miss Martian looked at me apologetically.

"_Hello, Megan!_" she said gently, once again mentally. "_We use a mental connection for the team instead of comma units. Sorry we forgot to warn you._" I could feel Megan's mental shrug and small smile.

"_I'm just not used to unfamiliar voices in my head_," I said shortly, flapping once more to regain lost height.

"_Everyone else is here_," Aqualad confirmed, his low voice ending the mental conversation. Miss Martian and I scanned the scene from the sky, looking down on the crime ridden streets of my city. For a while we saw nothing, circling a few times over the residential area Batman had directed us to. But after 10 minutes of solid observation, I caught sight of a dark flash down in the streets. It appeared to be two people; o e dragged the other, both moving relatively slow. The person being dragged appeared to have a gun to their head.

"_Uh, guys?_" I asked, cringing at how stupid I sounded. "_There appears to be someone dragging a person down Meriwether Street and they're armed. Should I check it out?_"

"_No._" Aqualad's response was immediate. "_Leave it to Robin and Kid Flash. Keep an eye on them._"

I sighed, feeling cheated out of a good fight. Being part of a team was definitely going to be something I'd have to get used to. As solo Owlet it was easy to apprehend crooks on my own terms. Even when I was working with Batman and Robin I could mostly do my own thing. Never had I been denied the chance to kick ass. It was practically infuriating.

"_I know it'll take some time to get used to, nobody blames you for frustration on your first mission,_" Megan said supportively. I ignored her the best I could though we all knew I could hear her.

I watched Robin rush into action, coming from the opposite side that KF was approaching from, obviously trying to corner the villain with the least amount of problems. It would only take a few minutes for the villain to notice he was being followed, unless he already knew. The situation slowly unfolded before me as the boys crept closer and closer in the night. But as I was watching the scene progress, another hint of movement tore my eyes from Robin and Kid Flash. It was down an alleyway at least four blocks from Gotham Park and nearly as far away for Robin and KF. It was hard to tell, but I thought I saw a group of darkly clad people leading others into a black truck. I could see guns and the flash of chains or handcuffs in the dim moonlight. Megan didn't appear to notice anything, completely preoccupied with watching Robin and Kid Flash. Was I the only one seeing this?

As I was watching, one of the people being led into the truck turned to confront their kidnapper. The man with the gun simply proceeded to hit the person in the head with the butt of their gun. The rebel dropped like a stone kicked out of the way of the others as they made their way into the truck.

"_I think the person Robin and Kid Flash are after is just a decoy!_" I mentally exclaimed. "_There's a bigger operation going down in the alleyway between 4th and Pine Street. It looks like human trafficking, and I think somebody just got mortally wounded. I'm going to check it out, it's too far to travel for anyone else._" instead of asking for permission I told Aqualad what I'd be doing, swooping down to the kidnapping.

I hear shocked yells reverberated throughout the kidnappers; some of them screaming bloody murder that "The Batman!" was coming to get them. Others cursed loudly, trying to shove the rest of the prisoners into the vehicle. With a well-placed landing, I kicked a gun wielding maniac with the complete force of my falling gravity. He toppled over, falling to the ground without a sound. Trying to do something I'd seen Robin do a thousand times or move, I put all my concentration into doing a flip in midair. It wasn't a complete failure; I could swear that I'd actually succeeded in flipping. It was my landing that really cost me. I hit the pavement in a somersault, rolling into some trash bins with a loud "OOMPH!" Some of the men wielding guns now laughed, seeing I was only the klutzy teenager superhero and not the Dark Knight himself.

"Well, well, what's this?" A tall, broad shouldered man stepped out from the shadows. He appeared to be unarmed, but when you've got muscles the size of baseballs under your skin, I suppose you wouldn't need to be. "A little owl?"

As the kidnappers focused on me I could see a teenage girl, maybe a little younger than me, trying to sneak out of the alley. She had almost succeeded when one of the dimmer bulbs of the pack realized she was escaping.

"Hey, she's getting away!" He exclaimed.

"Shoot her!" Another screeched. Without thinking I threw myself in front of her just as the gun gave a quiet bang, most likely due to a silencer. I fell to the ground feeling an enormous pain welling up in my chest. It was almost the same type of feeling I got before I cried, like a big knot in my stomach. Except when I cried I didn't gush blood from my stomach. The man who'd shot cursed, loading his gun, giving at least two more shots until I heard the sound of a soft body fall to the ground.

"She's not the only one!" A frightened gunman cried out as Miss Martian suddenly swooped down. They tried firing at her, but somehow couldn't seem to get through. It might've have been due to my lack of blood, or the darkness, or my limited knowledge of the girls capabilities, but it looked like she was using some sort of force field to block the bullets.

"That's kinda cool," I mumbled to myself. No one heard me as they fought, though I did hear M'Gann give a mental call out to the others, telling them where the real fight was. I looked down at my injury, shocked to see the dark blood sprayed on and around me. I didn't think I was feeling near enough pain for the degree of the wound, but I wasn't about to complain about it.

"Hold on, Owlet!" Miss Martian demanded. "Don't close your eyes, just count loudly or something!" I wasn't sure how counting loudly would keep me from dying of a bullet wound, but I followed her orders anyway.

"1..." I started, speaking in a little less than a whisper. Something told me M'Gann wouldn't approve of that as loud. I tried once more.

"2..." Something large and fleshy landed someone pushed it out of the way of the fight. With a start I realized it was the girl that I'd taken the bullet for, the one they killed anyway. They must've shoved her corpse out of the way to fight better. Bastards.

"3..." My voice was stronger now, not by will but by anger. That girl should have lived. I should've tried harder to save her.

"4..." Miss Martian gave a defiant yell, floating in the air as she kicked a thug in the face. I heard a yell in my head; it was the rest of the team telling us they were on their way. Would anyone get here in time for me to admit my failure?

"5..." Tentatively I placed my hand over the bullet wound, applying timid pressure. Dull pain reverberated throughout my body but I only welcomed the sensation, wondering if it would be my last.

"6..." Blood pushed against my palm, streamed through my fingers as Miss Martian continued to fight. She was so brave, taking on all those gun wielding creeps.

"7..." I gasped as a shock of pain suddenly ripped through me.

It was complete and utter agony, my skin being apart, fire forced into my bloodstream, needles stabbing in my lungs. I let out a fierce screech, unable to contain it. That was about the time Robin showed up, suddenly kneeling next to me like he'd been there the entire time.

"You just had to play the hero," he sighed, quickly ripping his cape from his uniform. Without my consent he gingerly took me by the waist, lifting me ever so slightly off the ground, wrapping the makeshift tourniquet around the bullet wound.

"Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?" My voice came out labored yet weak. It was a fight to keep the pain down, a fight I was losing. "I was trying to save her." I looked over to the dead body of the girl beside us. She had bright blue eyes that stared emptily at the cloudy sky above us. "I couldn't save her..."

"Then avenge her death, live to pay her killers back, ok, M- Owlet?" Robin quickly corrected himself.

"Hey, it's my first day on the team; don't spill my secret identity already." I attempted to give a weak smile but I wasn't sure it turned out quite like I wanted it. "But I've been having to mentally correct myself all day about who you are right now, so I suppose it is fair."

"Just remember I'll always be whoever you need me to be." Robin's voice was light with the softly spoken promise. He gently scooped me up in his arms, walking from the alley as the rest of the young heroes fought.

"So if I suddenly need someone to play my long lost cousin or something, you'll be there?"

"Of course," Robin replied, playing along with my game because he knew it distracted me from the pain.

"Friend from Clown College?"

"You bet."

"Fake boyfriend?"

That got a small smile from him, he looked down at me and all I wanted at that moment was to see his brilliant blue eyes, wondering if I'd ever see them again. "Anything you want, Mona," he murmured, leaning forward as if to prove his point.

"Ok, I'm here," Kid Flash announced, suddenly zooming up to us. Robin gave a small sigh that only I could hear as he carefully handed me to the speedster.

"Get her help fast," he ordered, looking at his peer with an excellent example of a Batglare. KF only nodded before we zoomed away. In seconds we were back at the bio ship, Miss Martian already waiting in the pilot seat. I was laid down on the floor, Wally slipping off his mask while kneeling beside me, a gloved hand holding my own in comfort.

"C'mon Owlie, don't fail us now." The older teen with the vibrant red hair gave a supportive smile, the last thing I remembered before my world blacked out.


	6. Birthday

AN: I absolutely HAD to do this. Don't judge me, ok? Please enjoy, read, review, and blow raspberries, whatever ya want.

Birthday

"I don't want to do anything."

"But it's your-"

"It doesn't matter what day it is. I'm treating this like any normal day."

"Why?"

"Don't give me that look, I'm warning you now."

"Warning me what?"

"I said stop giving me that look!"

"But… but… what about just going out for dinner or something?"

"You know you've got an unfair advantage with the eyes, I swear there's something almost Meta about them, you-"

"…Please?"

"UGH, fine!"

A triumphant grin lit up my face as I finally got the Boy Wonder to crack under the powerful influence of the puppy dog eyes. Sometimes they could rival the intensity of the Batglare. I'd have to test that out sometime…

"Don't be such a drama queen, Grayson," I scoffed, leaning against a metal examination table in the Batcave. He'd just returned from an early night Bat-call or whatever and had already slipped out of his uniform. "It's just your birthday."

As he slid on a t-shirt over his bare chest littered with scars and bruises he winced in pain, from a sore joint somewhere or from the statement I'd just made, I didn't know. "Don't remind me."

"It's not that bad. You get presents just for being alive for another year, people have to treat you nicely, and you can do pretty much whatever you want." I shrugged, making the reasons sound blatantly obvious. "Besides, you're 16, you can get an actual license so when the police decide to card Robin he'll be legal."

Dick laughed dryly but it lacked any emotion other than sarcasm. He put on yet another jacket to hide the battle wounds on his arms. "I don't want to do anything really big. At all." He gives me a stern look with his cerulean eyes. "Understand?"

I mock-saluted him. "Yes, sir. Now stop being such a stick in the mud. You're Dick Grayson, you can eat anywhere you want in Gotham City, and no fancy restaurant will stop you from sitting anywhere you'd like!" I grabbed his hand, pulling him up the hidden staircase to the regular level of the Wayne Mansion. "So where's it going to be?"

Dick gave an irresistible half-grin that made him look both cocky yet amicable at the same time. "Oh, I've got somewhere in mind."

* * *

><p>"This is the place you had in mind?" I ask dubiously as Dick pulls up to a small 50s style burger joint that didn't even have seats, only stallsparking spots for cars to pull up in. So he parked the motorbike he'd driven us there with and waited patiently for a waitress to come and get our orders.

"Hey, don't judge a book by its cover," he protested, examining the menu that was painted on the wall of the place. I looked at it as well and saw its name was "Mugs Up" and was home to the famous "Zip-burger" whatever that was.

"I'm not judging books, I'm judging a run down, shack looking place that you want to have your birthday dinner at," I grumbled, swinging my leg over one side of the motorbike to sit side saddle on it.

"Just get the cheese fries and a root beer," he told me, completely ignoring my last remark. "And then you can thank me later."

I roll my eyes at him but the waitress came and he never noticed. She was probably a college student at Gotham U because she looked older than a high school student, but not quite old enough to be a full blown adult. She gave us a kind smile as she walked up though, wearing a hot pink shirt bearing the name and logo of the restaurant. "Hi, welcome to Mugs Up! I'm Amy, what can I get you two?"

"We'll take two large root beers, a cheese Zip burger, a side of fries, and some cheese fries," Dick rattled off easily, like ordering here was second nature. The college girl scribbled it all down and promptly left without another word.

"I still can't believe that out of all the places to go in Gotham City, you pick here." I gave Dick a doubtful look as I crossed my arms over my chest. "You could've had a big party with exquisite food and entertainment and at least a hundred people all there to make sure you had the best birthday in the world."

Dick shrugged; looking around at the slummy neighborhood that Mugs Up resided by, not making eye contact with me. "If I'd wanted that I would've asked for it."

An idea popped into my head as he said that. "You never told me-"

"And here's your order!" The waitress was back already with a full plate of food on a tray that she clipped onto the small windshield of the motorbike. "Let me know if you two need anything else." She flashed us another charming smile and left.

Dick wasted no time as he grabbed one of the root beers, shoving it into my hands. "You have got to try this root beer."

"Since when do superheroes drink root beer?" I ask playfully under my breath, obediently sipping at the soda. I was amazed when it hit my taste buds. I had no idea that soda, yes, carbonated soda, could be so smooth in your mouth, like it was liquid caramel or something. The flavor was something else entirely, so rich and delicious that I couldn't stop myself from taking another sip of the root beer. Dick looked triumphant next to me, sipping at his own root beer.

"Told you," he said simply, opening what I assumed to be his Zip burger. It looked like any other regular burger to me, but I'm sure that if I hadn't been a vegetarian, I would've highly enjoyed that too. "Try the fries." And as I'd anticipated, they were as amazing as the root beer.

We ate and talked for a while, commenting on the greatness of the food and various innocuous things about Gotham Academy that annoyed us (other than the homework load in Biology). By the time we were ready to leave the sun had already started to dip beneath the horizon, casting the smoggy sky an interesting shade of grey-orange. When it was time to pay I covered all the costs. I mean, it was the guy's birthday.

Dick drove us home after that and the ride to the Mansion was completely silent, both of us in some kind of inner mental discussion with ourselves. This definitely wasn't the first time we'd let silence slip between us. It didn't matter, though. No matter how quiet it got, or how little we spoke, there was always some sort of unspoken agreement of trust between the two of us and that's how I always liked it to be.

It must've been about 10 o'clock when Dick drove the motorbike back into Wayne's garage. He helped me off and once I'd put my helmet on the bike he leaned up next to it, looking like some sort of hot movie character from a teen spy flick or something, with his dark clothes and mussed hair, all tied together with that strange yet intriguing look his brilliantly cobalt eyes were giving me.

"You have a nice time?" he asked as if trying to fill the empty space of air.

"Yes, but it's more important if you did," I retorted with a playful glare. "And did you?"

Dick laughed, a soft, genuine laugh, not like the disturbing one he used while sneaking up on villains. "I really did. I'm glad you made me go out tonight. It was fun."

Another silence fell between us, but this one was a bit more awkward, as if we had no idea what to say to the other person. I finally swallowed the buzzing, butterfly-ish feeling in my stomach and spoke. "You never told me what you wanted for your birthday?" I hadn't meant for it to come out as a question, but an odd spark of nervousness inside me made me squeak on the last syllable of the sentence, tweaking the word up to sound like an inquiry.

"Ugh, not this again," he groaned, giving himself a light face palm. "I told you before; I don't want anything for my birthday, Mona."

"But that doesn't seem fair!" I protested. "You're only human, Dick. There's got to be something that you'd like to make this day just a little bit better." I rocked back and forth on my tip-toes as a gentle breeze wafted through the garage door that Dick had left open. Dick's birthday was on the first day of spring and the weather of Gotham was already starting to get the right idea. It had been a comfortable 70 degrees the entire day and had only dropped a few degrees once nightfall had come. Even now the breeze that blew into the garage was slightly warm, compared to the winter winds we'd been feeling for what seemed like years but was really only a few dozen weeks. The breeze ruffled my hair, pushing it gently into my face and forcing me to hold it back so I could talk to Dick without looking like some sort of awkward Cyclops.

Dick gave a deep sigh. "I guess there is one thing…" he trailed off, sticking his hands into his pockets as he stared down at his shoes.

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Well?" I said expectantly.

He looked up at me almost sheepishly with a strange apologetic look on his face. His cheeks were tinged lightly pink. "Well I wouldn't say no to a birthday kiss."

And so like the best friend that I am, I walked forward the few feet it took to close the distance between me and Dick, wrapping my arms around his neck as I stood on my tip-toes, bringing my face closer to him before stopping, my lips just barely brushing his.

"Are you sure this is what you want for your birthday?" I asked a bit breathily. My heart had taken this moment and decided that it should speed up just for me. How considerate of it. "I could always get you a cruise ship or a Robin bobble head. I'm sure it's not too late to run out and buy you a real present."

"No…" he murmurs back, his voice heavy and low. I can feel his breath on my chin and nose as he speaks, inching forward closer and closer. "This is the only present I'll ever need, Mona."


	7. Hurt

AN: Sorry I made you guys wait so long for a part two to the Young Justice thing, I just had other priorities, I guess… And I had no idea where to start. But this came from a long car drive, so yeah, boredom = work :D Tell me what you guys think, part three, yes, no, maybe? Oh, and with all of the one shots, they don't apply to Fate at all, they're completely stand-alone. So the events in here don't happen in the main storyline, at all.

Hurt

If there is one thing in the world that I truly hate with all my heart (besides Fincher), it has to be headaches. And right now I was having the mother of all headaches. It felt like blood was pulsing in my brain, pushing my brain against the inside of my skull with every beat of my heart. Sure, I've been through much worse things. I've been stabbed in the leg, I've ran into a building with my wrist while flying at least 25 miles an hour, and quite recently I got shot in the stomach with a gun. But in terms of innocuous yet excruciatingly painful conditions, headaches were at the top of my list.

I forced my eyes open through the pain of the headache, squinting my eyes to adjust my sight to the dimness of the room. The overwhelming smell of cleaning fluid and cheap laundry detergent filled my nose and I couldn't help but instinctively wrinkle it in disgust. It smelled like a hospital, I realized. My disgust quickly turned to panic. Was I in a hospital? Was I more hurt than I really knew? I tried my best to sit up in the bed I was situated in, but the tight pressure of the stiff hospital- like sheets that were tucked in pressed on my abdomen and I couldn't help but let out a pained yelp, falling back to my pillows in defeat. The once great Owlet had been beat by bedding, of all things.

"'Once great Owlet'?" I mocked myself quietly. "Oh yeah, so great she gets herself shot."

"Don't underestimate yourself," a voice tells me, coming out from the darkness. I instantly recognize it as Bruce and then expect to see him emerge dressed in his Batman garb without his cowl. "Learn from your mistakes, though." He does slink out if the shadows, though he is completely dressed as the Dark Knight and looks at me with a mixture of apathy and disapproval.

"If I always learned from my mistakes, I'd know everything," I joke grimly, acknowledging Bruce with a tip of my head. His grim mood is infectious as I immediately put a frown on my face to match his.

"Funny. You should be glad you're alive, Owlet."

"Oh, you can't see the gratitude written all over my face?" I ask sarcastically with an annoyed undertone. I didn't know what happened to make Bruce so pissed off, but he was having a nice time taking it out on me. "Where am I?"

"The medical bay in Mount Justice. We were able to make your situation stable enough so you didn't have to go to a hospital."

"Fantastic," I mutter, not quite knowing what else to say.

"Do you think you're well enough for visitors?" He asks abruptly. I shoot him a confused look.

"What visitors?"

"The team has been worried about you," Bruce admits almost sheepishly. I can't help a little smile that creeps onto my face. I've only known these people for less than a day and they care enough to be worried.

"Yea, that sounds nice," I say, my smile growing a little wider.

"Then here." Bruce steps forward and hands me my cowl and I can't help the little sigh I give as I slip it on.

"Is my face that disturbing that you have to put a mask on it for the sake of others?" I ask cheekily. Bruce doesn't reply. He merely walks away from me towards the hospital-like double doors, flipping on the lights before he opens the door and stalks past whoever was standing behind them.

In an instant the team filters in, Miss Martian at the front with Artemis behind her and the boys, excluding Kaldur I notice, falling in line behind them. Robin is at the back of the pack, dressed in civilian clothes although he wears a pair of dark glasses over his bright blue eyes. Miss Martian begins chattering away about how she's sorry she wasn't there for backup earlier and how it was probably her fault that I got hurt and that poor girl died, etc. etc. Kid Flash, completely in civvies, only shot me a small smile and said that I looked better now that I was less pale and not bleeding all over the place. Superboy stood near M'Gann, silent as a tomb though giving me a slightly reproachful look. Artemis muttered a quick "Hope you're feeling better" before she backed away to give the team's redheads more opportunity to babble at me. Once they ran out of breath I was able to get a word in.

"Did you get the guys?" I ask immediately, ignoring their well wishes and concerning remarks. In the back I see Robin's mouth quirk up with a little smile.

"We rounded up all of them," Artemis confirms. For some reason I seem to trust the information from her mouth more than I would from someone like Miss Martian.

"Good," I sigh, leaning back into my pillows and resting my eyes for a little. "No other injuries besides me?"

"None," Wally relays. "But it was your first mission with us, no one blames you."

I give another sigh. "I do, but I can learn to get over it." I give my new team a bittersweet smile.

"We should go so you can get some more rest," Miss Martian says supportively, filling the silence that followed my admission. She, Superboy, Wally and Artemis filter out of the medical bay quietly. Robin and I are the only two left. He closes the distance between us, slipping off his shades as he walks. I take off my cowl, running a quick hand through my hair and hoping it doesn't look too bad.

"Hey," he says quietly. He shoots me a little smile. I return it, forgetting the pain as I recall how badly I wanted to see his eyes not so long ago. There's some undetectable feeling being reflected in them but it's too foreign for me to tell what it is.

"Hiya," I respond. Dick leans against the side of my bed and I scoot over a bit. He grins a little as he gets the idea and sits next to me on top of the covers. I can't help but let a smile slip onto my face as I feel his familiar warmth and matching Robin smell. He gives me a light one armed hug around my shoulders as I lean my head on the crevice between his neck and shoulder.

Dick gives a barely audible sigh and I want to believe that it's one of content, but I've learned from experience that you can't assume anything when it comes to the bats. I let my eyelids droop down and relax my muscles that have been tense ever since Batman had made his presence known in the room. Dick must feel the tension leaving my body because his arm curls around my shoulder almost protectively.

"There was so much blood," he mumbled into my hair. His breath stirs my bangs and tickles the tip of my nose. "You were so pale, almost completely white."

"How long was I out?" I ask quietly.

"Only for the night. Bruce says you're healing very well for someone who got shot in the stomach."

"It doesn't feel any better," I say bitterly.

Dick continues as if I haven't said anything. "Bruce also says you should be extremely grateful," he tells me. "That the bullet could've gone through your spine and you would've been paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of your life."

I have nothing to say to this and Dick finds my lack of a snarky comment concerning because he pulls me closer to him. My right arm crosses over my body to curl around my neck, twisting my abdomen painfully as I press our bodies even closer together. My head ends up on the opposite side of his neck somehow as I cling to him while dry yet gentle sobs wrack my body. He holds me tenderly as my body trembles with a fear that I cannot express with words. And even though he says nothing I know he understands everything.

It doesn't feel too terribly long but sooner or later Dick shifts me back onto the bed and gets up. The position must've been terribly uncomfortable for him but he didn't say a word. He only slipped his dark sunglasses back on, bending down to give me a gentle kiss on the forehead before silently walking out of the room.

It was at that moment that I realized I'd never be as strong as Bruce or Dick. Their strength and resilience were superpowers in of themselves, that and their common sense. They were such rare human beings that knowing them felt like an honor, though I'd never actually say that to them. The world needed more people like them, and I knew that all the good they'd done in the past, and all the good they'd come to do in the future would pay off for them in the long run. If there was a God, I knew it would.

* * *

><p>"Owlie, oh Owlie!" Wally sings as he tromps out of the zeta tube. I look at him from my position on the couch, seeing that there's something odd in his arms, something that's moving… "I've got a present for you!"<p>

Apparently whatever he was holding in his arms didn't like the off-tune warbling that he was demonstrating because the creature leapt out of his arms and barreled toward me. I braced myself instinctively, wondering what the hell that thing could be when a big brown ball of fur jumped into my lap and began nuzzling its face on my knuckles. Immediately a smile lit up my face and I cuddled the brown cat closer to me. In the 4 or 5 days or so since I'd been injured, I hadn't left the mountain at all, not even to just go outside to get some fresh air or anything. I hadn't been able to go to the apartment, I hadn't been able to see Carolina, and I hadn't been able to see this brown cat that had claimed me as its own.

"How did you get him here?" I marveled, scratching the feline behind the ear. It settled into a spot on my lap and begun to purr.

"He was snooping around the entrance to Mount Justice, had a note tied to him." Wally zoomed forward, handing me the note before racing to the kitchen in record time. I looked down at the crumpled notebook paper that he'd thrown into my lap. I picked it up, my jaw dropping as I began to read.

_Owlet,_

_Heard you got hurt. Guess that's what happens when you play with the big boys. Hope he'll make you feel better._

_-S_

The cat purred even louder as I read the note, perhaps recognizing the scent of Selina from it? I didn't know, and I wasn't going to attempt to figure out what would make sense. I merely pocketed the note with a sigh, wondering if Selina had meant to make the "he" in her note sound like it could mean two different "he's": the cat and Dick.

"Mean anything to you?" Wally asked, now suddenly standing next to me. He was obnoxiously devouring a turkey leg and I wrinkled my nose in disgust and slight contempt. He didn't notice.

"Yea, from a friend. You, uh, might want to eat that in the kitchen. I doubt M'Gann will like it if you get turkey grease all over the carpet after she just vacuumed them." My lame attempt at trying to get Wally to get out of my face with the meat worked well enough because he ended up back in the kitchen, possibly from taking my advice and possibly to just get more food.

I sighed once again, this once a bit more tired than the others. Rubbing my temples through my cowl I wondered off-handedly if I'd have to wear this cowl every single day I stayed at Mount Justice. I didn't really care if they all knew my secret identity. Sure, I'd only known these people for a few days, but I've seen them in action. They're amazing as a team; they all trust each other and play off one another's strengths while covering for their weaknesses. And all of them had already told me their own secret identities. Well, Artemis is just Artemis, and I have a feeling that I've seen her somewhere, but that wasn't really all that important. What was important was the fact that wearing my cowl 24/7 was going to give me helmet hair for the rest of my life. And as an almost 16 year old, the rest of my life is a long time, even in the business that I'm in.

But of course since Bruce insisted on the cowl, who was I to refuse him? Bruce had done so much for me, it would seem selfish and stupid to deny him the choice to let the team know who I really was underneath. I didn't believe it'd be all that big of a deal, anyway. Dick was the only one the information would've affected. However, since he already knew, I was totally fine. Miss Martian and Superboy went to school at Happy Harbor, the high school right on the water down the street from the mountain. Kaldur lived in freaking Atlantis, for crying out loud. Wally lived in Keystone City, which is way farther from Gotham than Central City (where he usually works as Kid Flash). And Artemis, well I don't know where she lives, but I don't think she'd really care that I'm another depressed little rich kid who decided to take up crime fighting as a hobby. In fact, I think she'd just get a little more annoyed with me then forget about.

I have to admit, my logic is pretty flawless, even though I've only known these people, excluding Robin, for a few days' time. I had secretly been analyzing them, assessing them not only in combat but in social interaction. They were good, normal people, well, as normal as super powered teenagers with a ton of responsibility could get, at least. A strange little part of me felt guilty for spying on the people I was starting to think of as friends. But that was how Batman had taught me to work: assess the strengths and weaknesses of everyone you meet. It doesn't matter who it is, it doesn't matter where you are. Being prepared is the number one priority when you only have your intelligence and your skills on your side. And for Bruce you could never be too prepared. For anything.

Like the time I had stayed the night at Wayne Manor because I'd been there as the lone student of Batman's Boot Camp. Bruce would train me from 7 am to 10 pm with minimal breaks in between. I'd gotten up one morning at 6, knowing that early riser Alfred would already have breakfast ready. I soon found I was right as I seated myself at the formal dining table, because I could. There was already a wide assortment of delectable looking breakfast foods, most of which especially delicious looking to me because our dear Alfred had taken into account that I was a vegetarian and fixed me a few special dishes for all of the meals. I had just begun to dig into my pomegranate and granola cereal with strawberries when Bruce runs in, half dressed with only a ratty pair of sweatpants on.

I'm innocently eating my breakfast as he glares at me and announces (none too kindly, and in his Batman voice) "Joker has a Catholic School held hostage, suit up" before running back out of the room, presumably to the Batcave. I'm up in a flash, running as fast as I can to the secret entrance to the underground caverns. I use the stairs in the study that lead down to the cave, taking them three or four at a time, wishing my stride was longer. In seconds I'm in the Batcave, sprinting across the stone floors, past the Bat-computer and Bat-mobile to the uniform closet, where my owl suit resides while it waits for me to return to "work".

In about 47 seconds flat I'm dressed, slipping on my Bat-boots (as I affectionately call them) and my cowl, running back out to the main stretch of cave, looking around frantically for Batman and Robin. They're nowhere to be seen, but I don't think anything of it until I hear a slow clapping coming from above me. It's difficult to locate the source of the sound due to the echo of the cave, but I eventually pinpoint Bruce and Dick standing on one of the upper levels of the Batcave, Dick grinning down at me as Bruce gives a little smirk. It then clicks that there is no Joker problem at any Catholic School (if there are even any Catholic schools in Gotham). This was a test, and judging by the not disappointed looks on Bruce's and Dick's faces I assumed that I'd passed. That didn't make me happy about it, though. I stalked off in full Owl suit, ignoring the both of them for the rest of the day to assure that I got even.

Recalling the memory felt odd, considering that it felt like it happened such a long time ago, though it was only a few weeks back. Being in Mount Justice was causing me to lose track of time, of the days. Since I hadn't seen the sun or the moon or the stars all the days sort of jumbled together, leaving me to solely rely on the computer systems in the Mountain for my personal calendar. I was usually a pretty independent person. I mean, I'd almost single-handedly taken down Fincher, with minimal assistance from the Dynamic Duo (I know that's an exaggeration, but shut up, ok?). Since Selina had been gone or disappeared, I'd taken care of the bills for the apartment and managed to feed the cats and myself while also doing almost all of my schoolwork and going out as Owlet at night. There was no argument; I could indeed take care of myself, on the normal basis. But a gun-shot to the stomach? I'm not even sure if Batman could 100% take care of himself after that. For his injuries he usually has Alfred to aid him, anyway.

I pushed all the uneasy thoughts of almost betrayals and past memories away, focusing on the note once more. This note and this cat were the only solid pieces of evidence I had that Selina was now back in Gotham, back at our apartment even. She'd been gone for so long, it was odd to think that she could really be back, that if I made my way back to Gotham, she'd be there in her lounge chair in the tiny living room, a black cat purring in her lap as she sipped at her mostly milky coffee and watched the evening news for reports on Batman. The thought made me smile a little, hoping that she wasn't injured from wherever she'd been. Part of me had thought that she was just taking a little extended, spontaneous vacation, while another part of me wondering if she'd been kidnapped (or really Cat-napped) and needed someone to come and help her out. Of course, she was probably just on a personal mission, like she usually is. I'm used to her disappearing for a few days at a time, but how long had it been now? Two weeks, almost three?

It was about then that I decided I would go and visit Selina, see if she was really back at the apartment, tell her how much I'd missed her then give her the third degree of interrogation like I was some worried parent. The role reversal of kid and adult humored me, but only enough for a small, grim smile. If something was up with Selina and she wasn't telling me, she could be in trouble, and that trouble could ultimately lead to me, with one or both of us eventually getting killed. It may seem like a harsh way to think about it, but in a world like we live in, harsh is the only option.

I got up with the cat cradled in my arms, making my way to my room silently. The brown cat didn't fidget as I walked; only obediently waiting until I was ready to put it down. Somehow that cat knew when I needed something to hold onto, something to act as an anchor when everything else was far too crazy to comprehend. And this cat didn't seem too unhappy to be my anchor, at least not now, and not earlier. The walk to my room didn't take too terribly long, and once I was inside I set the cat on the bed, swiftly walking to my dressing drawers and slipping out of my pajamas and into a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a zip up hoodie. I looked normal enough for a teenager, especially a teenage superhero. But that was what I was going for, so all was well.

The hard part was going to be sneaking out of here. Sure, Mount Justice wasn't like a military base; it definitely wasn't the most heavily guarded place I'd ever ben to, but it still had security. And I'd have to find a way to get past that security if I wanted to get out of here and see Selina. I could've knock-out gassed the entire place then used the zeta-tubes, but that would be mean. Wally hadn't done anything particularly rude to me, and I doubted Black Canary would appreciate it very much, as well as Connor and Megan. So knock out gas was out. There was always persuasion, trying to get Wally to run me to Gotham, but I didn't know how I'd shake him once I got there, or how I'd explain why I was in Gotham without giving away my secret ID. I groaned and flopped onto my back on my bed, staring up at my ceiling in frustration.

It was then that I saw it, the 2 foot wide opening in the ceiling, covered by an easy to remove grate. It was the air conditioning duct, and I had seen the specs for it on the computer. The ducts ran literally all through the mountain, because when there were people occupying the mountain, it was usually nice to have it warmer than 50 degrees all the time. And in case of an emergency regarding some sort of spilled gas inside the cave, the air ducts led outside in a few spots. If I could find my way to get out of one of those exits, I could make my way to Happy Harbor and catch the afternoon bus to Gotham City.

Sure, it wasn't the best plan in the entire world, but hey, it was all I had at the moment. And it was going to have to work. So I pulled my single desk chair over under the grate. Thankfully in the bedrooms of Mount Justice the ceiling were relatively low, so someone with as short stature as I could still reach up and undo the weak attachments at the corners of the grate. In less than a minute the grate was off the opening and on the floor. I began pulling myself up into the dark 2 by 2 foot hole in ceiling, scratching my arm on a sharp piece of metal that I couldn't find the source of. But I was in, slinking through the dark and dusty ducts for what I knew was only half an hour or so though it felt like hours and hours. After too many wrong turns and dead ends I had finally made it to an exit. And though luck hadn't been on my side while I was trudging through the air ducts, it was as soon as I had exited the mountain, seeing that I had actually found my way to an exit on the correct side of Mount Justice, the side facing Happy Harbor.

I did run into the slightest bit of unluckiness. The grate separating me from the outside did not want to come off easily. Which I suppose made sense. The bolts on this one should be stronger, so that weather didn't break it off, or that wild animals wandered into the mountain, or even so that people, good or bad, didn't find their way into our headquarters by way of the air ducts. With a bit of creative contortionism, I managed to turn myself around so that my feet were positioned by the grate. With as strong a kick as I could muster in such cramped quarters, I tried to break the grate off. It took a few times but I managed to get it off, working up quite a sweat while doing so. I slid out of the air duct, knowing that now inside the mountain there'd be some type of alarm going off to alert everyone to the possible breach of security. I didn't care though. I was only a few minutes away from Happy Harbor if I took it at a run, and I wasn't about to miss my opportunity.

I had almost began to run with my cowl on when I realized that I was still hiding my identity quite uselessly. I slipped the cowl off, throwing it to the ground by the discarded grate, shaking my hair out and pointing my face toward the slowly setting sun like a flower would after being kept inside too long. And then, like a Flash would, I set off at a sprint, rushing as fast as I could down the hill to the little town.

* * *

><p>After the three hour long bus ride to Gotham, I had managed to make my way to the apartment, which was once again empty, like it always seemed to be whenever I returned these days. I couldn't help a sad little sigh from escaping me as I saw that nearly nothing had changed in my almost week long absence. I could see the evidence that Selina had been here, though. A few more dirty dishes in the sink, her recliner had been left kicked open, and the mail had been haphazardly thrown onto the coffee table, days of bills piling up. I made my way over to the mail stack, seeing a thick envelope lying on top of a big stack of bills. One look inside and I saw that it was a good amount of money that was no doubt for all of the bills. I didn't want to know where Selina had gotten the money, and I was sure that if I didn't ask questions I wouldn't get any unwanted answers.<p>

Among the bills and spam, however, was a single letter addressed to me from Gotham National Bank. It was dated less than a week ago, the day of my birthday, March 27. Curiosity overtook me. What could the bank want with me on my birthday? I sliced the letter open to see a formal note. I read over it once, my jaw dropping farther open with every word. When I finished the letter I reread it, over and over again, still not believing what it was trying to tell me. And instead of giving you the dull version, I'll give you the summary: Hey Mona, now that you're 16 you can come down to the bank and get this lock box that your parents left for you in their will that they never told you about! Also enclosed in the letter was a silver key that I was told would open the lockbox. It didn't take long for me to high-tail it out of the apartment and to downtown Gotham City where Gotham National resided.

It was at least 5:30 in the afternoon, too late for lunch, too early for criminals, though neither point really concerned me. Selina's apartment wasn't all that far from the bank, so I was able to walk the distance without a fuss. I carried nothing on me besides the key to the lock box hidden inside my parent's bank vault.

Once I'd gotten to the bank they immediately serviced me, rushing to verify that I was indeed now 16 and able to access what my parents left to me. They brought out some legal forms and after I signed them I was able to walk out of the bank, lock box in hand. The metal felt cool on my skin as I held it tightly to my body. I wasn't going to let this box out of my sight, not only because what lay inside could possibly aide my future in the world of crime fighting, but mostly because it was the last and only thing my parents had left for me. The house was gone; all our memories there destroyed in the fire that robbed me of the two people I loved most in the world. All I really had to show for being the daughter of two not only brilliant scientists, but amazing people, was the billions lying in their bank account, waiting for me to turn 18.

I brushed the thoughts away, along with a matching tear that had dared to make its way down my cheek. There was really only one private place I could go: the orphanage, my home for two years. A few months or so after I had been taken on as Selina's ward, the city council had declared the establishment "unfit for the homes of today's youth" and shut the place down. The teenagers were sent to various foster families and other orphanages around the area. I heard that some kids had to go as far as Blüdhaven. I mused on the thought that if Selina hadn't adopted me as her ward, I probably would've had to go to Blüdhaven, considering I was one of the older teens. It would've been interesting to see how much more different my life would've been. Would Owlet still exist? Would she have a need to exist? It was hard not to think about all the different things that could've gone differently as I finally ended up at the abandoned orphanage. It was dark and boarded up at the entrances, but not very well. They'd left the windows unscathed, even the window I'd leave unlocked for my midnight adventures as Owlet. I slipped inside easily, muscle memory setting in as the awkward angles of pulling myself into a window became familiar. The hallway I stood in was dark and cold with disuse; dust thick on the floor with spider webs decorating the ceiling above.

"Home sweet home," I mocked, quietly making my way to my old room. It looked exactly as I'd left it; bare and boring, a room no one obviously cared about. But why would anyone have a reason to? This place was a dump, dirty and creepy and in the wrong part of town. Despite the thought, I sat heavily on the uncomfortable spring mattress that I'd slept on for two years. It gave out a puff of dust in greeting.

I wasted no time, opening the box with its matching key. The lid popped open satisfactorily, and I eagerly opened it up, hoping desperately that whatever was inside could actually help me. The box was inlaid with protective black foam with 6 different syringes nestled inside. They each contained odd looking liquids, but I tried not to dwell on that too much. It would probably just psyche me out from what I needed to do. There were no instructions or explanations in the box, but living with my parents I knew it was all completely straightforward. I'd seen experiments in progress from the moment they started to the final ending. I knew how this process went. Almost all of the experiments my parents conducted were through the use of special chemicals and mixtures in quaint little syringes, ready to be injected. It was all glaringly straight-forward, but that didn't make it any less hard to do.

It was a crazy, stupid idea. An idea that no sane person would ever try. An idea that made the small bit of common sense I had scream in abhorrence. But it was an idea that I had to try. As a part of the Young Justice team, I was practically useless. I was a human with the power of flight, only in good circumstances. I wasn't the best fighter and I didn't have any weapons besides those in my utility belt. If I didn't do anything to change that now, the Team and Batman would just think of me as a failure, an outsider that just couldn't step up to the plate when she really needed to. As Mona Ryder I will admit that I fail quite a bit. But once that owl suit goes on and that trademark cowl is slipped over my head, I am Owlet, and Owlet doesn't make mistakes. Not anymore.

So to ensure Owlet wouldn't make any more mistakes, I had to do something about it all, I had to take actions and make myself responsible for them. I had to find a way to make Owlet indispensable to the Team. And the only way to do it was to find out what this box of experiments my parents had left could do for me.

I took the first syringe on the left from its spot, trying desperately to ignore the fact that none of these substances had ever been tested on anyone. I had no idea how they would affect me, of what they were supposed to do. Inside the vial was a slightly orangey brown colored liquid like iodine. If I'd seen it in the light I'm sure it would've been about the same color as my eyes. A small label in the side identified it only as "Owl." A smile curled on my lips. If I'd believed in coincidences I would've laughed, but there is no such things as coincidences in a world like ours. There is only fate and destiny, and what they have planned out for you. I uncapped the needle, rolling up my sleeve and taking a deep breath before injecting the fluid into my veins, pushed it from the syringe until all of the orange had disappeared from the container. Gradually a hot, burning sensation spread through me, travelling with my blood. The pain was near excruciating, but compared to all I'd been through as Owlet, it was almost nothing, especially my still healing bullet wound.

I sat there in the dark, waiting for the injection to do its job, gritting me teeth in pain, occasionally biting my lip until the skin broke when it was especially hard to bear. When the pain subsided I ceased the squeezing closed of my eyes, blinking them open to the darkness. Everything was in such sharp detail, like someone had flipped a light on in the room though I knew the electricity hadn't worked for weeks now. With quick feet I fled to the bathroom down the hall, supporting myself on the rim of the sink with my hands as soon as I got in there. I was breathing heavily though I didn't quite know why, my short-breathiness accompanied with a sheen of cold sweat across my skin though it was only getting cooler outside. I managed to gain enough courage to look at my reflection in the mirror, my breath catching in my chest as I saw what had changed. My usually golden brown eyes were now practically glowing in the dark, a bright, butterscotch gold. At first I couldn't possibly believe this was me, but as my reflection blinked in time with me. I couldn't believe the outcome, I had expected the change to be completely internal, but it was completely obvious to anyone who'd see me at night that my eyes were now practically glowing gold.

"God grant me the strength to accept the things I cannot change," I muttered under my breath, not quite sure where I'd picked up the words but knew they fit here well. Nobody in my family had ever been exceptionally religious, but I'd gone to church a few times, it wasn't like I didn't even know who Jesus Christ was.

I gave another look in the mirror, not quite sure how I liked the change. The gold eyed made me look more primal, more elemental. I wasn't used to that look on me. I was usually angry or apathetic these days. But never threatening. Owlet wasn't typically connotated as a threat, and as I'd learned to work at being Owlet, I'd come to expect the underestimation of my foes. It usually proved to their downfall in the end.

But would that initial assumption still stick to me even after this change? Would my girlish charms overcome the primal look and matching instincts? I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. I was on a team now. It didn't matter what I was thought of as an individual anymore. If Owlet was going to be of any use to the team of young heroes she'd have to have indispensable qualities, and these injections were the only way of achieving that. It's not like I was randomly going to get super powers or become a master acrobat like Dick or an amazing archer like Artemis.

"But I can give myself some help, and nobody has to know." The softly spoken words that were silently uttered from my lips were all the reassurance that I was sure I'd need. I took a deep breath, wiping some cold sweat off my brow, shooting another look at the gold eyed Mona in the mirror. She gave me a shaky smile and I returned it as best I could, making my way back to my room and the remaining 5 vials, ready to see how else my parents could help me tonight from beyond the grave.


	8. Looking to the Future Part 1

AN: This one-shot is kind of sad and depressing. The idea came to me when I was writing Owlet at lunch months and months ago. There's this guy that fail flirts with me, but he's also into Batman so I talk to him. I asked him what he thought I should put into my story. He said that I should make Mona have Dick's kid in the future. I thought it was stupid, but I wrote it down and kept it in the back of my mind. And then this idea came, and I decided that I would write it, even though this isn't quite what the guy was expecting. Hopefully it's not what you're expecting either. Oh, and I'm sorry that I haven't updated Fate in a while. I'll get it up soon, I promise! For now enjoy this. Please read and review.

Looking to the Future

I shouldn't have snuck around the Watchtower, I admit it. It was a bad idea. A really bad idea. I could've broken something or released something or trashed something, or someone could've caught me. Actually, in hindsight I wish someone had caught me. Because then I wouldn't have to deal with the information I knew now.

The Justice League is not only a team of heroes dedicated to saving lives, they're a team of secret keepers. And when somebody who isn't supposed to see a secret (cough me, cough) stumbles upon a secret, bad things can happen. I have firsthand experience of this. But I'll start at the beginning, or as far as I feel is actually relevant.

Robin is a nuisance, he's annoying and whiny on rare occasions, but boy he's got a way with the Batman. Just a few pitiful looks, a sad face, a teary sigh and Boy Wonder gets what he wants. I should really be mad about this, but he got a perfect opportunity for the both of us to take a tour of the Watchtower, the real headquarters of the Justice League. Batman had been scheduled for watch duty at the tower all night. The other original six had invited me and Robin up to the Tower since they knew that if there wasn't a Batman in Gotham for a night, there'd still be an Owlet and a Robin, even if we had to patrol alone.

That might've been why Bruce agreed to let us go up there, so we didn't make problems in his city. But for whatever reason he allowed us to get beamed up with him. And before I knew it, or really even prepare myself, I was in space. There had been rumors floating around about the Watchtower, about how it was really just another tourist attraction and the Justice League wasn't nearly as organized as we all assumed them to be, or that the Watchtower was the place high above Earth where the various aliens and outcasts of society plotted the downfall of civilization while gaining its trust first by fighting its battles. But as I looked at the panoramic view presented to me as I stepped off the transporter pad into what seemed to be the heart of what I could see of the Watchtower. Heroes bustled around me, a continuous din of voices filling the air.

To be honest it was kind of like a dream. Bruce hadn't wanted me and Dick to be dressed as Robin and Owlet for some reason or another. Dick thought that it was just because he didn't want us to be deployed somewhere as heroes of the Justice League on accident (or perhaps, knowing me and Dick, on purpose). So there I was, standing in my civilian clothes, gawking as a Green Lantern walked past me talking animatedly to a hero I thought was named Booster Gold. I looked over to Dick, and though I couldn't see behind the dark shades he wore to keep his identity a secret, I knew his eyes shared a similar look. It didn't matter that we were both already 16 years old, we could act like little kids in the face of our (literal) heroes if we felt like it. I mean, c'mon, imagine if you were in our shoes. Do you think you could keep your cool if you were talking face to face with Wonder Woman or Martian Manhunter?

Before I was allowed to get too far, a strong hand wrapped itself around my arm, dragging me and Dick off to a blank stretch of wall out of the way of people coming and going on the transporters. Bruce, still all in his Batman get up, gave us both a watered down version of the Bat-glare as he told us the do's and don'ts of being in the Watchtower. I couldn't help but think that because we weren't in costume he didn't have the heart to give us the full out Bat-glare, and I was fine with that.

"Do you understand?" he asks crossly and Dick and I nod though I hadn't been listening and I doubt he had been either. "Good. Now, remember what I told you about-"

"Hey! I didn't know it was bring your kids to work day!" In an instant the Flash is standing in the midst of the three of us, giving Bruce a hearty clap on the back. "You can't keep things like this to yourself, Batman! I could've brought Wally!" For a second I notice Dick's face take on a genuine smile, but when Bruce glares our way it disappears in an instant. It's obvious that the Scarlett Speedster annoys Bruce.

"It's not a holiday, Flash," he grumbles with his teeth gritted. "I'm taking late shift tonight in the control room and I couldn't trust them alone in Gotham."

"That hurts, Bats," I say, feigning a broken heart. The Flash smiles at me.

"So you're going to keep them cooped up in the control room all night? That doesn't seem fair," Flash says, getting an indignant tone to his voice.

"As long as they behave they have free roam of the Watchtower," Batman growls, though all three of us can tell he isn't actually angry.

"Hey, maybe I can give you guys a tour!" Flash says, finally addressing me and Dick.

"Isn't there some disaster that needs to be avoided with your help, Flash?" Batman asks almost bored-ly, though I can see his Daddy-Bats instinct kicking in. He doesn't want us to hang out with the Flash, for one reason or another.

Flash sighs. "You're no fun, Bats," he groans before speeding away. Batman rolls his eyes under the cowl (which has taken months for me to notice what he was doing).

"If it's any consolation," I say as Batman starts to turn and walk to the control room. "I think you're a fun guy, Bruce." I make sure to say his name quietly and I can see the corners of his lips quirk up a little as he gives me a rare smile, albeit small. He turns away from us and stalks away.

"So…" I start. "What do you think we should do-" I turn back to where Dick was standing but he's no longer there. Maybe he decided to take up Flash's offer of a tour after all. I give a short, huffing sigh and make my way down one of the many branching hallways of the floating headquarters.

I walk for a while before coming across a door that I cannot walk away from, bearing a sign that says: ONLY AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL. Who counts as "authorized personnel" in a spaceship full of superheroes, I wonder? The sign doesn't give any specifics, and I decided, since I'm in the Watchtower at all, I might as well be considered authorized personnel. In a minute or two I disable the electric lock on the door and slide it open manually, closing it behind me.

The room is dark with yet another view of space out the windows that wrap around the room. I cautiously turn on a light, hoping that it won't be so bright that people see it casted under the door, but it seems to be alright. I creep forward into the room which is long and narrow, almost like a hallway. There are many large masses around the room covered with sheets and dust as if they haven't been seen for a while because nobody wanted to look at them. I peek under a few sheets, seeing nothing that really interests me until I get to the far end of the room, nearest to the windows and with the best view of the moon. A machine covered with a sheet sits alone, neglected, apart from the rest of the odd collection. I don't know what comes over me, but I pull off its sheet, scattering dust everywhere in the air, causing it to fall down into my hair and on my clothes. But I ignore, because of the simple sign that the machine bears: TIME MACHINE.

"A time machine!" I gasp under my breath, not quite able to believe it. But this is in the Justice Leagues' HQ, the same Justice League that goes on interdimensional missions and battles evil aliens and robots. If the Justice League can do all that, why can't this be a real time machine?

The machine is shaped like a little chamber, almost looking like a phone booth from the future. There is a little pod that I assume you climb into where there are controls to pinpoint where in time you want to go. My fingers twitch as I step closer to it, grasping the handle of the glass door to the pod and wrenching it open. With tentative steps I climb inside, shutting the door behind me. For a second I fret that it will lock behind me, but as I test it out, pushing it open and pulling it closed a few times, I am convinced that I'll be fine. I find out that I was right about the controls, I just hadn't quite expected them to look so glaringly simple. Next to some words that say "Destination" there are three spaces that light up digitally as I touch them with my fingertips. The date is set for today, but with a few taps I have changed it to 5 years in the future, just to keep it simple enough to remember how long I went forward.

"Are you seriously going to do this?" I questioned. My hand hesitated as it was making its way to the easily labeled start button. It lingered in the air for only a few moments, however, before I slam my hand down on it.

A bright flash blinds me and I can feel my body quickly being pulled from my place in the Watchtower to somewhere that was obviously outside. Normally I'd be fine with being outside, but I soon realized that the flash still had me blind and that I was now falling through the air and something told me I was inevitably hurtling to the ground. I sure had chosen a great not to wear my owl suit.

I let a wild scream escape my mouth for a second before I was snatched out of the air by my waist and pulled roughly to the side. I let out a yelp and the person who'd caught me gave a light chuckle, pulling me alone with them through the air in the night. After a few moments of being yanked around in the air my eyesight finally came back and I was able to see that I was being pulled along high above the city streets. With the position I was being held in it made it impossible to see who'd saved me from an unfortunate and almost ironic death (I mean, c'mon, I go out every night and fly as a giant owl. Death by falling? Fail at life, literally). It was a few more minutes before we actually landed on the wide ledge of a building. My savior's arm left my waist and I was able to turn and face them to see who they were.

I've never seen this man in my entire life. He wears a black jumpsuit with a blue bird blocked out on his chest, its wings running down his arms leading to blue stripes on his two middle fingers. He wears a black mask that's vaguely bat shaped as well with shaggy midnight black hair that hangs down to barely brush the top of his cheekbones.

I try to figure out who this mystery savior is when he gives a very audible gasp of "Mona!" and rushes forward to engulf me in a hug. His strong arms encircle me and lift me a few inches off the ground. In an instant I'm back on the roof, but now his hands are on my shoulders and he's looking me up and down with a shocked expression. "What the hell are you doing here?"

I probably should've just answered the question first, it would've been the polite thing to do and I kinda owed him for saving my life. But when you nearly die and are saved by someone who somehow knows your name, you can get kinda testy and etiquette is at the back of your mind. So I can't help it as the words pop out of my mouth "How do you know my name?" quickly followed by "Who are you, anyway?"

The strange man gives a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples tiredly, suddenly looking almost 10 years older though he seems to be only around 20. "He taught me how to deal with time travelling situations once; I just can't remember to save my life…"

"What are you talking about? He who?" I demanded. My eyes flitted around the rooftop, seeing all the places I could easily fall to my bloody death. Being up here without my owl suit made me lose all my confidence, leaving me to be normal Mona Ryder who couldn't fly or survive falls from 50 stories.

"You'd better come with me," the man tells me, his voice more soothing as if he's making an attempt to calm me down.

"Not until you tell me who you are!" I demand. "I don't care if you use a codename or your secret identity."

The man seems to silently weigh the pros and cons of telling me anything before he gives a crooked little smile that's hauntingly familiar to me. "Okay, well my codename is Nightwing. I patrol the streets of Blüdhaven." Nightwing pauses, smoothly applying a thin layer of solvent all around his mask before slipping it off as I stand there gaping at him. "But you might know me as Dick Grayson."

(LINE BREAK)

I'm sure my mouth is still hanging open in shock as Nightwing steers his motorcycle into the Batcave a few hours after he saved me. Once I'd actually gotten a chance to look at him without the mask, the similarities between him and my Dick were startlingly. Obviously they had the same eyes, but that wasn't the most important part. I could see where my Dick's sharp jawline had grown in a very soundly contoured face of a handsome man. I could see Dick's smile still intact, along with a lighter personality that I had always secretly wanted him to have. I could see the plain humanity etched onto his face along the laugh lines and the smile creases, but I could also see the strain Nightwing was bringing him though he was only 21 years old, as he told me.

But once he drove into the Batcave I let all my shocked feelings funnel out until I was left with comfort that the Batcave still looked exactly the same. Sure, there were a few more mementos and tokens from villains Bruce had conquered, but for the most part it looked exactly the same as the Batcave preceding it 5 years. There was even a Batman and a Robin huddled up by the Bat-computer. Well, Batman was huddled by the Bat-computer, typing away furiously as his eyes were glued on the screen, probably looking for any patterns he could find in the data he had collected. As usual when he worked, Bruce's cowl was off. But behind him was a boy only around 10 years old, dressed in a brightly colored costume that I immediately recognized as Robin's very first costume, with the red and yellow tunic, yellow cape, and green panties (which I couldn't ever tease Dick enough with). This Robin was doing handstands, walking around until he accidentally stepped on his cape with his hand, causing himself to lose balance and topple over. He landed on his butt right behind Bruce, and after flipping his cape off his head, he was in the perfect spot to see Nightwing and me dismounting and walking towards him and Bruce.

Robin let out a strangled yelp/gasp, struggling around his utility belt to find his mask. But the boy wasn't quick enough for my well trained eyes. I saw every inch of his face before he had even attempted to cover his eyes. The boy looked a lot like I would've expected Dick to look at a young age, bony and skinny with disheveled hair and a relatively pale complexion. This boy, however, had hardness to him that I found startling seeing as he was only 10 or so. It couldn't have been more obvious that he'd already had a lot happen to him early on in his life. Part of me just didn't want to know. Between me, Bruce and Dick, there was enough sorrow to write a soap opera about. There was another part of me that was eager to know what the boy had gone through however, mostly wondering what had happened to make him Robin material in Bruce's eyes, and partly to see if there was anything I could help him get over.

Robin, who was now flushing quite red after I'd let out a little giggle at his mishap, jumped to his feet and fell into place near Batman. "Batman, Nightwing brought some girl in here!" he accused, pointing at the older hero like a younger sibling would when they were trying to blame something on their older brother or sister. Bruce gave a little glance at me from over his shoulder then froze, turning again to look straight at me with the Bat-glare that never seemed to get un-scary.

"Mona?" he asked. If he hadn't been so good at the whole "stoic" thing, that would've almost sounded shocked.

"In the flesh," I say with a little grin. "Who's the new bird?"

"My name is Robin!" the boy spits at me. He puts himself in a fighting stance, and if he hadn't been so small and if his mask hadn't been peeling off at the edges, he might've looked threatening. "And that can't be Mona, she's not old enough."

"What's going on here?" Bruce asked, ignoring Robin.

"Time travel," I tell him lamely. It sounds fake coming out of my mouth, as if I still can't believe it either.

"She's got to be lying!" Robin says, leaping at me with a kick aimed straight at my face. Without thinking I grab his foot, twisting his leg so that he's forced to turn his entire body facing down at the floor. My right foot kicks his stationary foot off the floor, making him forcefully hit the ground and knocking all the air from his chest. I'm drilling a knee into his back in an instant, yanking the leg I still have a hold of up towards his head while I'm grabbing an arm and forcing it backward.

"Hey, kid, don't jump at me," I say relatively good-naturedly after making him wait in his defeated position for a few moments. "I'm not responsible for my actions." I let go of his arm and his leg, standing up and brushing my palms off. Robin gets up, his mask even more peeled off and his face tomato red as he glares at me.

"Mona, this is Jason Todd, the new Robin," Bruce introduces emotionlessly, apparently having next to no reaction to my spontaneous show of self-defense.

At this Jason just rips his mask off the rest of the way, showing a pouting little ten year old face that's still cute though he's obviously angry. I can still see Dick in him through the anger which makes me smile but it's not completely a happy one. It was hard to believe that Dick could just be replaced as Robin, by a boy that looked nearly exactly like him. But this was 5 years into the future, and I had no idea what else could've possibly changed in the years I'd skipped.

"C'mon, why don't we head upstairs?" Dick suggested. He had apparently slipped off for a few seconds while I was distracted with Jason because he'd changed into civilian clothes. "You should be getting home from school soon."

I didn't question Dick as I followed him up the stairs to the main level of the Wayne Mansion. I did give a final look back towards Jason and Bruce. Bruce was working as diligently as ever while Jason was just giving me another nasty look. Apparently I wasn't one for first impressions. I brushed the thought away, anticipating what it'd be like to meet future me.

To be honest I was a little scared to meet me in the future. What if I was totally lame? What if I'd gotten into some crazy car accident and I had to get plastic surgery and I didn't even look like myself anymore? I could've gone on with the what-ifs for a long time, too long, actually, but I found it easier to distract myself with the game of "Look at what's the same/different in the Mansion". I could spot a painting or vase here or there that had been moved or replaced, and few rugs in different rooms, a fresh coat of paint on some walls. The tedious game helped me focus on useless little details instead of the scary thought that I hadn't become who I wanted to be in the future.

A joyful little scream pulled me from my thoughts and the sound was so alien to me that I looked around bewilderedly before settling my eyes on a little boy, probably around 2, running as fast as his little toddler legs could carry him to Dick. Dick knelt down and gathered up the child in his arms, spinning him a little in the air as the child giggled merrily. The little boy had dark brown hair, pretty much the same color as mine, but his eyes were the most amazing shade of blue I think I've ever seen, comparable to Dick's in that regard. It then hit me that this little boy was probably Dick's son.

The realization hit me like a brick in the stomach. In the future Dick already has a son? And he's only 21? What happened there? I mean, sure Dick is a bit of a playboy, but I didn't think he'd sleep around when he got older. I just thought he'd play around with girls, then leave them with broken hearts. But to have a child? Part of me was surprised and shocked while the other part was impressed at Dick for staying and taking care of the boy. That only left one question unanswered…

Who was the mother?

Dick bounced the toddler in his arms, huge smiles lighting up both their faces. The two seemed to be in their own little blissful universe before the child caught sight of me standing awkwardly a few feet away, watching them with curious golden brown eyes. Immediately the child too look curious, intrigued yet also cautious as he semi-retreated into his shell, sticking a thumb into his mouth as he stared at me. He took his thumb from his mouth only to ask Dick one question "Who is that girl?"

Dick gave a little smile as if hating and enjoying the irony of something before setting the child down on the floor. The boy looked up at me while leaning against Dick's legs and as Dick walked forward, the child was forced to do so as well. We stared at each other a minute or two before the child looked back up at Dick, confusion still in his eyes. Dick smiled kindly down at him, not at all patronizing as other adults could be.

"It's okay, Gray. She's a nice person," he said softly. "Say hi."

Gray looked down bashfully at his pudgy toddler hands before saying a quiet "Hi" while looking down. I couldn't help but smile. I knelt down to his level though he still didn't look at me.

"Hi there, Gray. My name is Mona." It was then that Gray's head shot up faster than I expected. His cerulean blue eyes analyzed my face before looking puzzled and flustered, both adorable expressions on the young boy.

He was just about to say something to me when the front door down the hall opened to show a woman around Dick's age with a cropped pixie cut of brown hair and a coffee mug in her hand. Even from all the way over here I could see the bags under her eyes from supposed lack of sleep. I knew because I got them all the time. It took me a little bit to realize that this wasn't the only thing I recognized about the woman. As she got closer I saw her eyes, golden brown, with the slightest hint of a scar on her forehead, just barely visible through her bangs. The way the woman smiled as she saw the three of us standing there was also familiar. It was _my _smile. This woman was me, a 21 year old Mona.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything really to break the silence that was starting to settle on us when Gray ran at the woman as fast as he possibly could. He let out a joyful yell as Adult Mona bent down to greet him with a warm hug. The moment was undeniably sweet and I was smiling just looking at it until I heard Gray say the last things I ever expected the kid to say: "I missed you, Momma."


	9. Looking to the Future Part 2

AN: Uh, yeah. Hi. My favorite color is orange. Please enjoy the second installment of "Looking to the Future". The end won't make sense until the third part, just warning you now. And it wouldn't kill you to review, please.

Looking to the Future Part Two

"Momma?" I ask hollowly. The question is too quiet for anyone but Dick to hear. He sends me a side glance that is partially sympathetic. I see that he expected this reaction because in his blue eyes there is a look of pity directed straight at me, and I somehow sense that its ben there longer than I cared to notice. I look numbly back at adult Mona and little Gray. She kisses him lovingly on the top of his head, and then ruffles his hair as he gives a giggle. The look of love and compassion on her face is nearly incomprehensible to me.

So in the future I have a little boy whose name is Gray as far as I can tell. And, judging by the way the child interacts with these two people, and his overall appearance of dark brown hair and effervescent blue eyes, I come to the conclusion he is the son of me and Dick Grayson.

It's not immediately clear to me how exactly I feel about this, to be honest. Yes, I know there's always been something between me and Dick, something that was more than just innocent feelings of lust and teenage desire. But never in my craziest, most outlandish day dreams, did I ever think we would go as far to have a child with one another. There wasn't any doubt in my mind, however, that on some level, in some way, we both loved each other, or at least deeply cared for the other. But this little boy who was now looking up at the two of them with wide, innocuous eyes is undoubtedly loved by Mona and Dick in the future. And really, that's all that seems to matter.

Adult Mona seems to finally notice me, passing along Gray to Dick's arms, walking toward me with a tired gait. She looks a lot older than 21, as if the 5 years I've skipped have been exceedingly difficult for her. She gives me a small smile, but there is little emotion portrayed in it besides some uncertainty and amusement. But it's enough to show me that we are really the same person. Adult Mona slides her bags off her shoulders and onto the immaculate floor of the Wayne Manor Foyer. I have a feeling that Alfred would have a conniption if he'd seen her just throwing her bags on the floor. For a fleeting and terrifying moment I wonder if something might've happened to Alfred but when I analyze the cleanliness of the mansion all my doubts wash away. No one can keep Wayne Manor this clean besides Alfred.

Adult Mona clears her throat, knowing that I'm somewhere lost in my thoughts, pulling me back to reality. "I'm sure you've got a few questions," she says slowly and clearly, but not condescendingly or patronizingly. She talks to me like I'm her equal. I can only nod as she leads the way to one of the spacious lounges scattered around the manor. The one we choose to occupy contains a couch with two reclining chairs and a beautiful view of the rain that has begun to fall outside in Gotham. Adult me gives a deep, tired sigh and sinks into the cushions of the sofa. I sit across from her, trying to relax my nerves.

I really had nothing to be nervous about. I mean, this was me. I knew me; I was really the only person in the world who knew me. I knew that I didn't like the color purple because I didn't think I looked good in it, and that I haven't liked cherries since I was in sixth grade because I'd seen a video about how they start off yellow and are dyed red and artificially flavored. I knew that sometimes I felt so alone in the world, like I was the only person who was hurting and nobody could understand that. I knew that sometimes, more than I liked to admit, I had thought about giving up in life. So if there was anyone I could understand, it would definitely be me.

"You have a son?" I blurt. It's the first thing that comes to my mind.

She gives a little smile and a laugh. "Yes, that's Gray."

"How old is he?"

"Just turned two."

"Full name?"

"Graylan Fallon Ryder."

"Ryder? Why does he have our last name? Shouldn't he have Dick's?"

Adult Mona gives me a confused look. "Why would he have Dick's last name?"

"He's Dick's kid too, isn't he?" I ask as if it's obvious. Other Mona pales a little bit and I immediately start to get worried.

"I should've thought you would've assumed that, what with how he looks and where he lives…" she trails off, rubbing her temples with her fingers. I notice there aren't any rings. I'm not married in the future.

"Wait, so he's not Dick's kid?" I furrow my eyebrows together. But the way Gray treats Dick is just like a kid would to his dad. All of the clues point to Dick being Gray's father, but according to Adult Mona, that's not right. Dick isn't the father of my future child. A part of me is relieved, yet another is disappointed. Who could I possibly meet in a span of 5 years that I deemed good enough to have a child by? "Then… who's is he?"

"It's a long story, Mona."

"I'm pretty sure we've got time. Bruce hasn't said anything about sending me back yet. I'm sure he'll just send me back up to the Watchtower and use the time machine up there. But for now we have time. So please, tell me what's going on." I had started the sentence rather forcefully, demandingly. Towards the end it leaked into a tone that I could only call pleading. I was begging her to tell me what was going on. This was my life in the future, so I should at least know how it got to be like this shouldn't I? Some might argue that knowing too much about your future was dangerous. I disagreed, especially right now.

"Are you sure you want to know? There might be some things that you don't want to hear, Mona." Adult Mona looks nervous, almost as if she's scared of what I'll think. She bites her lip, a bad habit I've, well we've, had for years.

"I'm sure," I reply, even though I'm not.

"Three years ago, when I was 18, I was patrolling Gotham on my own as Flamebird, a mantle that I assumed from Bette Kane. She gave it up after only using it for a few months in Central City. I was still keeping in touch with Bruce and Dick, but not nearly as much as I had used to. I felt so independent, like I didn't need them anymore. Of course, I was wrong, but what's surprising there?" Adult Mona gives a wry smile but there's nothing happy about it. "Anyway, I was 18, patrolling Gotham on my own like usual. I had just gotten out of high school and I had been accepted into a college in Washington D.C. to study forensic science. My life was going pretty well, as well as it had been since Mom and Dad died, at least. It was the middle of June when I was kidnapped by the Cleaner's men. I was bound, gagged, and unmasked by his men, then delivered to him after being stripped of my uniform. I was beaten and then sold into the Cleaner's personal prostitution ring." The room grows extremely silent and I can feel my mouth is hanging out. She can't be serious… can she? Me as someone called Flamebird? The Cleaner and a prostitution ring?

She goes on before I can let any questions spill from my mouth. "Bruce and Dick didn't know I was in trouble. They'd just thought I'd gone to D.C. a few weeks early to get all my college specifics settled. I was missing for 2 weeks before someone from the college finally called the police after trying to contact me about some paperwork I had been missing. A search was launched, but the Cleaner was too smart for the Gotham PD. He hid me well, and after making people pay to rape me for weeks at a time, abused and scarred, someone came for me."

"Who?" I ask in a hoarse whisper. I feel like my mouth and throat have completely gone dry. "Who came?"

"He was a man about my age, maybe a year or two older. Lithely built, almost like Dick in that regard I suppose. He wore a hat and a pair of sunglasses when I first met him, and I had assumed that he was another one of the Cleaner's customers, come to have a go at the once powerful and fearsome Owlet, now Flamebird. But he wasn't. He came and he broke me out of that awful place. Told me he was the Cleaner's cousin, that he'd seen the operation and thought it was sickening that they'd do it to me. That I didn't deserve it. So he helped me get out, stowed me away on a boat that went to Blüdhaven. After it docked he got me out, helped me get back on my feet until I was ready to go back to Gotham." She pauses, maybe for dramatic effect, probably to catch her breath. "And as soon as I found out I was pregnant I dropped out of the college in D.C."

Her last remark catches me completely off guard. "So, this savior guy, the one you didn't even know before he came and rescued you, he's the father?" I gasp out, the words choking me as the leave my throat.

Adult Mona nods. "I've only seen him once since Graylan was born," she admits. "At the hospital, I stayed overnight so they could make sure Gray and I were healthy enough to go home the next day. He snuck in, apologized that he hadn't been around, promised he'd send checks." She shakes her head like she's disgusted. "I told him not to bother. That I'd given him my thanks 9 months ago. And I haven't seen him since then. The checks still come, though. I've started putting them into Gray's college fund." Mona looks down at her hands as if she's fascinated with them. "I don't want him to have to cancel his future because of a few accidents and mistakes."

"But you go to school now?" I asked. She nods.

"At the local university. Studying psychology. Bruce says if I work at it hard enough I can get a job as a professor or even at the Police Department." Adult Mona shakes her head and this is the first time that I've noticed tears that are silently streaming down her face.

"So this…" I ask shakily. "This is my future? Mother at 21, going to a college that I don't really want to attend, nothing to look forward to in my future besides caring for my son? Please tell me you're at least still a vigilante?"

She barks a laugh, wiping some tears away. "I wish I could. No, I don't go out in Gotham with a mask on anymore. The Cleaner made sure to spread my secret identity as far and wide as he could before disappearing off the face of the planet again. After the college in Washington D.C. found out I'd been a vigilante, they would've thrown me out if I hadn't dropped out. It's gotten better, but it used to be that I couldn't go anywhere without press agents, and defense attorneys swarming around me." Her voice gets softer as she draws her knees up to her chest, her hand absentmindedly playing with a long-ish piece of hair at the nape of her neck. "It's gotten better," she repeats at almost a whisper.

"Misses Ryders?" A polite voice asks at the door. It opens so we see Alfred standing there, hands clasped behind his back. "Dinner is ready when you two are."

"Thank you, Alfred," we respond together. He gives a little nod and a bow, closing the door behind him as he leaves his room.

Adult Me gets up, wiping the tears from her face and smoothing down her clothes. She begins to make her way to the door, but I stand and hurry to her side, putting a single hand on her arm.

"Wait," I demand. She looks at me expectantly with our golden brown eyes. "His name, the guy who saved you, me, us… what's his name?"

A little half-smile quirks up at the corners of her lips as a single word comes to me in response.

"Cobalt."


	10. Batman, the Musical

AN: GUYS, GUYS, GUYS! DID YOU HEAR ABOUT HOLY MUSICAL BMAN? CUZ I JUST SPENT MY ENTIRE FRIDAY THE 13TH WATCHING IT, AND IT WAS SO WORTH IT! Like, seriously, the funniest thing I've ever seen, great acting, amazing music, the intro gives me chills and I was cracking up the entire time! Before I even knew about Holy Musical Bman I had planned on doing a one shot with a Batman musical in it, but now that HMB is out, I have to dedicate this to the amazingly talented and dedicated people at Starkid Productions. The little bit of a song in here was written by yours truly, I own that. But inspiration goes to Starkid! So yea, WATCH HMB, IT'S AMAZING! REVIEW!

Batman, the Musical

When I'm out at night, patrolling Gotham from criminals, a superstitious and cowardly lot, I don't think about my fashion choices all that much. I mean, sure, in the superhero world there's pretty much a regulated code of what you wear: tight fitting suit to show off well-toned body, occasionally a cape, boots of some kind, and a mask (which is optional for some as well). Owlet's costume follows that pretty much to a Tee: I've got the body suit though I don't usually think of it as showing off my well-toned body (though I know I've got a pretty okay body to begin with), I wear boots (which are excellent for traction on the tops of buildings and for kicking crooks in the face), and the mask part is pretty self-explanatory, especially considering the cowl is the most iconic part of being Owlet.

So you see I've got the basics of crime fighting fashion down. I just never think of having to "look good" while I'm doing it. Selina is pretty amazing at the whole looking good thing, I'm sure everyone will agree. Compared to her I look plain in a simple body suit. It's something that can really take your confidence down a notch, but I had learned to look past it. Until Acting class, of course.

Let me explain, because I'm sure you're already confused by now. In the rest of my school day that doesn't consist of Modern History class, I have Acting in 6th hour, and every year the Acting class does a musical, but instead of you just trying out for the parts, our grades depend on our performances. Would you like to hear another difference between regular plays and this class play? In regular plays when you try out for parts, you can decline a role if you feel so inclined to. In this class play, we're assigned roles and if we refuse them, well that's an automatic F.

And now you're going to start asking, well, what play/musical are you doing and what part did the teacher assign you? The Musical, a newly written one straight off the stage of downtown Chicago, simply titled "Batman." And when I tell you the part I got, you're all going to start laughing because of the suffocating irony: I got the role of the Boy Wonder's love interest, a girl they're calling Lanie Blanson. The name sounds awkward and slightly plain to me, but I can't change what's in the script. By now I'm thanking my lucky stars that Dick doesn't take any Acting classes here at Gotham Academy, because he'd be a dead ringer for Robin. Instead, the teacher picks a handsome and popular boy named Jace Stephens, who does really look the part of Robin and can sing very well.

The rest of the musical is cast accordingly; a taller boy with a deeper voice as Batman, a slutty, I mean, excuse me, provocative looking girl chosen to play Poison Ivy, assorted people cast as the rest of the rogues gallery of Gotham, etc., etc. In the beginning I'm fine with all this, I mean, I'm sorta peeved that I have to play Robin's love interest, it's like the fates are just screwing with my head here, but I know since it's for a grade in school I have to do it. But after I start looking at the rehearsal schedule, I notice that three weeks before the show even goes up, we'll have rehearsals from 6 to 11 at night. I can't go out as Owlet if I'm going to be exhausted after 5 hours of rehearsal! That's like sending a wounded soldier out in battle; it's not going to do you much good at all! So that'd mean for about a month, Owlet's life of being a double agent on the crime-fighting side would have to cease. I'd have to give Owlet up for a stupid musical so I could be stuck after school for hours on end with people I didn't even know or like. This didn't seem like a fair trade off at all.

But I head down to the auditorium anyway, because it's my obligation to my grades and to the other people who are actually excited about doing the show. The auditorium is dimly lit with many people rushing about and talking, filling the time before the director comes in to make everyone settle down. People's backpacks lay discarded in various seats around the room. I follow their lead, moving a little further away from everyone and settling down in a cushy chair with my bag next to me. I analyze the room with my golden brown eyes, seeing all of the actors and techies messing around. It's absolute chaos, and it's giving me a headache.

"Hey, you're Ryder, right?" I slowly turn my head to see Jace Stephens standing next to me and looking at me expectantly.

"That's not usually what they call me, but yes, I'm Ryder. Nice to meet you," I say. I already know who he is; I don't both asking even for the sake of being polite.

"Thank goodness," he sighs, sitting down in the seat next to me. I look curiously at him, seeing as he's just given himself an invitation to sit next to me. He doesn't look at me, only gestures to a person that's standing near the stage. "Someone over there told me you were the girl with the brown hair sitting over here, and for a scary moment I thought they meant _her._" He points inconspicuously to a girl sitting in the middle section of theatre, picking her nose without abandon. I guess some people are just very comfortable with themselves, so comfortable that they can humiliate themselves in public and be totally okay with it.

I can't help myself as I let out a sound of shock and revulsion, only quiet enough for Jace to hear. He nods, some of his a black hair falling out of it's perfectly coiffed position above his forehead to dangle down in front of his brown eyes. That's almost the only thing that he doesn't have in common with the Boy Wonder, I notice. Nearly everything else if perfect, except for the eyes.

"That's exactly what I was thinking. Because, you know, there's a kiss scene in here," he holds up his script for me to see, "and I was fine kissing whoever was going to be Lanie, but I mean, if they're doing something like that in public…" He trails off and gives and obviously disturbed shudder. This actually spurs a smile from me, and no matter how small it is, it's sincere.

I know Jace notices because he too gives little smile as if he's accomplished a goal of his. Perhaps it was "Make your stand-off-ish costar smile", then he'd be totally in the clear. I roll my eyes at the thought. I hated that I automatically thought that there was something sinister or not so pure going on inside everyone's heads. I couldn't trust people anymore unless we'd actually been put to the test somehow. Like now I was busy arguing with myself if Jace had some ulterior motive for coming over here and talking to me. Because of Bruce I was a paranoid mess. Maybe one day if I grew up and Batman's secret ID had been let out, I'd write a book on how I was Owlet and how Bruce totally ruined me as a person. Quite frankly the idea was tantalizing.

"So, how're things, Ryder?" Jace asks, breaking the silence between us.

"Fine, I suppose," I mutter in response. "And yourself?" I don't know why I'm suddenly responding to Jace's politeness. Perhaps the fact that he's trying so hard inspired me to help him out a little bit.

"Exhausting, actually." He leans his head against the back of the seat. "Don't tell anyone, but our teacher told me what the play was going to be months in advance and that I'd been cast as Robin. So naturally, she wanted me to practice up as much as I could before the actual play started, so I've been taking beginner tumbling classes in lieu of my PE classes. I didn't know how much energy doing cartwheels and somersaults was."

"I've heard it takes a lot out of you," I say diplomatically. I know it takes a lot out of you. I could start going into an in-depth conversation of all the things I love and hate about gymnastics, all of the tricks I've learned and how many times I thought I was going to die because I'd executed a single turn at an angle only a few degrees off. But I didn't say anything. Any outside information could (now let's say it all together) jeopardize my identity. And if Owlet was going to take a break for a month, I didn't want to come back and have everyone suddenly knowing who she was.

"You have no idea," he groans, and I try not to laugh at that. Ever since I've become Owlet my world is just full of inside irony, and it hurts because there's never anything I can share with others.

"You know, I think that Dick Grayson grew up in a circus, he probably knows how exhausting it can be," I supply, not sure why I've decided to bring Dick into the conversation.

"Oh really?" Jace says, cocking an eyebrow as if it's second nature for him. "Well that's certainly interesting. You know, a lot of people think you're an item."

"Me and Dick?" I scoff, thinking of all the evidence that could indeed point to us being romantically linked, both as civilians and vigilantes. "Well that's just stupid."

"I dunno, sometimes the guy seems to be okay with the accusations. But maybe he's just following the footsteps of his dear mentor, Bruce Wayne." Jace shrugs as he responds, and if anyone else had said it, I would've snapped at them, but I could tell Jace hadn't meant disrespect towards Bruce at all. In fact, he sounded the tiniest bit admiring, or amused. I couldn't decide which.

"We're friends," I admit grudgingly, feeling somehow obligated to continue the conversation. In a normal situation I would've just let the awkward silence hang over us like a thickening and suffocating blanket of boredom. But since I was going to have to spend a lot of time on and off stage with Jace I thought I owed it to him to at least be civil. Who knows, maybe I'll even enjoy myself.

"Try telling that to the grape vine," Jace says while shaking his head. "A good chunk of the school is convincing you two have confessed your undying love for one another."

I can't help a snort as it escapes me, yet Jace doesn't look perturbed by it. "Please, Dick and I fight more than anything. He's got such a strong opinion on everything you can't help but oppose it," I say simply. "I'm sure the flip side of the argument could be made for me as well."

"You're honest," Jace says bluntly, giving a light smile. "I like that. Too many deceivers these days, good to know who you can trust."

"Thinking of going into the police or something?" I ask with a little guffaw. He looks at me seriously.

"Yes, actually. I wouldn't mind taking Gordon's spot when he gets too old for it. How does Commissioner Stephens sound to you?" He looks expectantly at me for my opinion.

"Pretty good actually. Gordon is just so catchy though, be hard for people to get used to it." I give Jace a little smile. My respect for him has just been bumped up by at least 5 points in just this one conversation. He's a nice guy who's rich but not a jerk about it, dedicated to school and his acting career (seen by the fact he's been taking gymnastics classes for a school play that will only be performed for three days), he admires honesty, and he's planning on going into Law Enforcement one day. Why couldn't there be more people like Jace Stephens in the world?

He gives a sort of grunt in return, showing that he understood me. For a little while we just slipped into a comfortable silence as we watched the hectic scene before us slowly get situated until we finally had to get up and go act as if we were in love with one another.

The plot of the musical is really quite straightforward: After Poison Ivy puts all of the men in Gotham, good and evil, under her control with her pheromone dust, she proceeds to plan domination on Gotham that would crush the economic and political stability of the city into the ground. Batman and Robin go off a few vague clues that eventually lead them to discovering the evil plot and saving the city just in time. My character, Lanie, only serves as a humorous break in the action, seeing as she's a very cynical type of person, often rolling her eyes at the idea of peace in a city like Gotham. She's pretty much the hottest and nosiest anarchist that ever walked the fake streets of Gotham, at least, that's how I've come to interpret her. She's usually snooping around like a mini version of Vicki Vale, always with an old style camera slung around her neck and a pad of paper on her person. Whenever she and the Boy Wonder interact, her responses are always laced with undeniable sarcasm as well as skepticism on the powers of Batman and Robin. But in the end when she's kidnapped by Poison Ivy for knowing too much, she finally realizes how important the Dynamic Duo is to Gotham, that they're not just a couple of guys running around in spandex at night because they can.

Overall, I like the musical, I really do. It's got more a story than Grease and a better theme than Bye Bye Birdie, in my opinion at least. The music is good, not just your run of the mill high school musical song types. Most of the songs are underlying with rock or some sort of watered down version of techno. Most everyone in the cast seems to like it as well, and I decided that there were worse ways I could be kept from being Owlet than having to be in the musical version of Batman.

* * *

><p>It was about two weeks into rehearsal when things first started getting bumpy. Everything seemed alright at first, everyone was fitting into their parts, lines were beginning to come more easily, and the cast seemed to be forming camaraderie-like bonds with one another. The director, our teacher, too seemed very pleased with the progress we'd been making. Until, of course, the girl cast as Poison Ivy decided that she didn't like her part and took it up with the director in front of the entire as we were getting notes after rehearsal one evening. The girl in question was named Sandra Peterson. She looked the part of Poison Ivy almost to a tee, with wildly red hair and sharp features like her chin and cheekbones. With a little makeup to add Ivy's green skin tint, she'd look exactly like the mistress of murder herself. But Sandra didn't seem to agree.<p>

The girl stormed up to our teacher, fists clenched angrily as she fumed, her face turning an unsightly shade of red. "Ok, I've had it!" she complains loudly, her already high voice shooting up an octave. I'm pretty sure dogs in Blüdhaven winced along with everyone in the room.

"Had it with what?" our teacher, Mrs. Roberts drawls, not even looking at Sandra.

"This part! You told me I'd grow into it, that I'd like it, but I don't! This isn't the part for me, I need to be Lanie Blanson? Can't you see how amazingly I'd play that part? I'm practically the cover girl for feminine anarchy!" Sandra bursts, throwing her hands up in the air. I snort quietly to myself, completely positive that Sandra had no idea what anarchy meant, most likely thinking it was some sort of women's rights movement-type idea.

"Sandra, the parts were casted weeks ago. You know my policy: You play your part or you get an F for the semester," Mrs. Roberts replies coldly, looking up at Sandra with a dead glare that would give even me shivers, and I'd been on the receiving end of a Batglare a few times. "That's how it's going to be. I suggest you get used to it."

"But Mrs. Roberts!" Sandra whines. "I've practically got Lanie Blanson written all over me! I need that part! You know I've arranged talent scouts to come see me for this performance, and I want them to see me in the part I'm best at playing, and that's LANIE BLANSON!" she screeches, stomping her foot now in anger. I'm instantly reminded of a little kid throwing a temper tantrum, which is essentially what it is, just a temper tantrum given by a high schooler.

"Sandra," Mrs. Roberts says slowly, drawing herself up and looking at the girl full on. "Mona Ryder is playing the part of Lanie Blanson because she was the best person to do so. You are playing the part of Poison Ivy because your unique abilities and appearance make the part more believable. I am not going to switch to large roles in this musical now that we're already two weeks into the rehearsals. If you don't like that, then you can drop of this play and earn yourself an F for this semester." Roberts pauses for a moment to regain her breath, her entire rant spoken in little less than a whisper, a sign that she's severely pissed off. She takes a deep breath before continuing on in a clear and highly enunciated tone. "Is that clear?"

Sandra looks utterly shocked that her plea has been denied. For a moment the two are just standing there, Mrs. Roberts with the mask of a silently triumphant warrior while Sandra looks humiliated and disgusted all at once. She turns on her heel and stomps from the auditorium with an indignant huff. For a moment the entire room is silent then a mutual scoff/laugh breaks out among the other actors and techies. Mrs. Roberts looks slightly pleased with herself before she goes onto reading her notes on our performance.

As she's only a few minutes through them, Jace leans over next to me, talking quietly so we don't disturb our already peeved teacher. "If it's any consolation, you make a much better Lanie than Sandra ever would." I only respond with a little smile, glad that the feeling is mutual.

* * *

><p>"<em>I wish that I could see behind his mask,<em>

_Just to know if he's sincere!_

_In a world that's full of danger, _

_You can't judge someone as they appear!"_I sing as Lanie Blanson on opening night, my one solo in the entire show. I'm not all that strong of a singer though I can carry a tune well enough. Thankfully this is the one time I'm forced to sing all by myself. The stage is completely empty save me and a park bench. We're in the middle of the second act and so far nothing has gone terribly wrong, only a few missed entrances and flubbed lines. In the story I'm confused by mixed signals being sent by the Boy Wonder, and my despair at wondering if I should trust my instincts about Robin or stick to the individualistic lifestyle I'd happily stuck to for my teenage life. The feelings Lanie are experiencing are so similar to my own I can't help but internally smirk at the strange fate of it all.

My solo comes to an end as I morosely begin to gather up my notepad and camera, getting ready to exit the stage. As written in the play, a few of Poison Ivy's goons ambush me and take me hostage as I leave while putting up a fight. I hear a few concerned gasps in the audience. They're buying the story, just like they ought to. The lights go dim as a set change occurs and I hear the resounding applause of the audience as I hurry to get into the harness that I'll need to be in for scene 4 of Act 2. Sandra is standing off stage in the wings, arm crossed over her skimpy little Poison Ivy costume as she smirks at me.

"Better hurry up and get into your harness, Ryder," she says condescendingly. "Wouldn't want anything to go wrong in the last part of the play."

I give her a suspicious look but brush past her, knowing I didn't have time to question what the smug look on her face was for. I hurried to put on my harness, mentally and physically preparing myself for the finale of the musical. Before I knew it, my time to come back on stage was here. I was suspended from the ceiling by my harness, wrapped up in a rope to make it look like it was holding me up above some "carnivorous" plants of Poison Ivy. I put on a scared face, struggling meekly against the ropes as Sandra cackled evilly as the villainess. Her plan was completely explained to the audience at this point, and Batman and Robin finally burst in, following with a staged fight scene against the Dynamic Duo and the hired help of Poison Ivy. She stands off to the side, her hands on a bright yellow lever that the Masked Marauders finally catch sight of once the fighting is over.

"Your plan was flawed, Ivy," Batman says, his voice stoic and gravelly. Even though I've actually met the real Batman, this guy is doing a pretty good job of pretending to be him. "You were sloppy with your execution, and now you'll have to pay for it."

"With a one way ticket to Arkham," Robin supplies, a big grin on his face. I have to almost do a double take to make sure it's not actually Dick under that mask. Jace is spot on with the character of Boy Wonder, and it almost feels like I never had to leave my spot on patrolling the streets at all.

"I think you two have forgotten my leverage over you," Sandra says seductively, playing the part of the villain a little too well. "Or at least, leverage over our dear Boy Blunder." Sandra gives a cackle of glee as she thrusts down the lever and the rope holding me begins to slowly drop down. "My babies are hungry and they sure do love the taste of nosy little girls."

"Robin!" I screech as one of the mechanical plants tries to nip at my feet. As Jace begins to start towards me Poison Ivy laughs in delight.

"It's not as simple as you think, little bird." With a snap of her fingers more cronies come out and engage the now tiring Dynamic Duo in yet another fight. The rope keeps lowering me down, closer and closer to the jaws of those hungry plants waiting below me (wow, I'm amazed how seriously I'm taking this). In the script Robin is supposed to pass off his cronies to Batman and go beat up Poison Ivy with a few evil plant repelling pellet things (something I'm sure we don't have in our utility belts). But tonight the goons are fighting at Robin more harshly than we've ever practiced and the rope keeps lowering me down little by little. It all clicks at that moment. Sandra couldn't get the part she wanted, so she's sabotaging the play, making it to where Lanie dies and Poison Ivy wins. I try to keep my face clear of any emotion other than distress as I figured out her master plan.

_But what,_ I think to myself as I have to bring my legs up higher and higher with each ticking second. _If she just planned to screw up the play, why did she smirk at me and tell me to get into my harness?_

My unasked question is answered immediately. I'm at least a good 10 feet off the stage, hanging from this line and I can't do anything to change that. Before I can prepare myself, I feel the rope snap from the tension of being lowered, and probably from being pre-cut. Sandra looks on with glee as I fly to my inevitable death as Lanie Blanson and my inevitable ending of playing the role of Lanie Blanson. A shout erupts from my throat and I can't help but to stare on as I accelerate towards the ground. The audience gasps with me, thinking this is all an elaborate part of the plot. How wrong they're about to find out they are when I break a wrist or something from landing strangely.

But before I'm forcing to meet the ground, I'm caught by Jace, who has just broken free from the band of villains that had been restraining him. He runs across the stage and jumps, catching me in mid-air like he's the actual Robin, landing on the ground with a tuck and a roll. I'm a bit bumped around but it's certainly better than having a broken bone or two.

We go back to script after Robin catches me. Lanie is led off the side with Robin as Batman triumphs against his goons and incapacitates Poison Ivy. Jace and I get off stage so that he can help me get out of my harness and rope restraints. As soon as we're sure nobody can see or hear us, he begins untying the knots and undoing the buckles of the harness.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," he whispers furiously to me, his breathing still labored from the amazing performance of agility, strength, and acrobatics I've ever seen performed on a stage.

"It was Sandra," I say equally as quiet, patiently waiting for the ropes to disappear. "She sabotaged the line, I know it."

"I'm thinking you might be on to something," he says, finishing up with undoing the harness. I step out of it, straightening up my costume which really only consists of skinny jeans, high top Converse, a t-shirt and a black feminine blazer. It's really something I'd wear in real life, which is why I find it so comfortable.

"You ready for this?" I ask quietly as we await our cue line. A lot of the other characters have gone out on stage now, Commissioner Gordon, a lady who's supposed to be the equal of Vicki Vale, the Mayor of Gotham. It's almost time for us to go on when Jace grabs my wrist, puling me closer to him before giving me a fleeting kiss.

"Now I am. Just had to practice, you know? Didn't want to mess it up when we finally got out there." He grins at me devilishly, much like I've seen Dick do so many as Robin and as a civilian. I don't have time to come up with a witty comment before we waltz back on stage, me hanging on his arm and laughing like I'm a bubbly damsel in distress that's just been saved. In all reality, I am, which makes it so much easier to play.

Most of the entire cast is on stage now, singing the final song, something about justice prevailing. I'm not really singing along as I should be, because I'm too caught up in playing the lovey-dovey Lanie with Jace. At the end of the play he pulls me in, this time by the waist, and dips me ever so slightly into a passionate kiss that has the audience whooping and clapping with renewed vigor. I wrap my arms around him and the lights go down, the curtain closing soon after. Jace and I don't actually break apart till the dim stage lights come back on and the cast has to get into place for curtain call. We get in place, waiting for all the minor characters to go out and bow before we go out, hands clasped together and bow in front of the audience. I don't even know what he's doing until Jace pulls me in for another kiss that has the crowd going wild once more. I laugh and shake my head after we break apart again, a big smile on my face as the entire cast bows together.

And as I look out on the crowd, hands still clasped with Jace on my right, with the blindingly bright stage lights shining in my eyes, and I'm squinting and grinning as hard as I can, I realize that doing this musical every day after school for hours at a time really wasn't all that bad a way to spend a month.


	11. What the Cat Dragged In

AN: Hey, sorry haven't updated in a while. What can I say? I'm a lazy writer. But anyway, this is just something simple and hopefully cute. Please read, enjoy, and review :)

What the Cat Dragged In

It was one of those dark, stormy days in Gotham when the lightning outside your window was bright enough to illuminate your entire house or apartment. Days like these stopped a lot of things, picnics, walks in the park, and, in general, getting out of the house for normal people. Two things this awful weather didn't stop, however? That would be crime and the Batman.

On the list of things it did stop was Owlet. Surely now you must be asking "What kind of a crime fighter are you when you won't even go out to kick ass when it's raining?" and to that question I'd answer truthfully, frankly, and quite sarcastically. One of the key components of my crime fighting style is the use of the owl suit that my parents invented. The owl suit, as you all know, gives me the ability to glide on the air currents much like a bird, or an owl. The suit isn't perfect though. Many times it isn't the best to try and guide as I fly and in the beginning I nearly always ran into buildings or made messy turns. And the wings themselves, which retract in and out of the suit, are an entirely different topic in of themselves. If either of the wings gets damaged, say a rip from a knife or a hole from a bullet, then the whole flying aspect of being Owlet completely disappears. Another factor that greatly limits my ability to fly is the rain as well as the storm winds. Rain weighs down on the silky fabric of the wings, causing them to be much more susceptible to dragging me down, and the wind doesn't help at all when I'm attempting to fly in a straight line or even course correct. All in all, being Owlet is fine and dandy until the rain comes.

_Come to think of it, I should really get Bruce to fix that… _I muse to myself as I slip on my favorite baggy sweater over an old and worn out pair of leggings. The entire apartment was unseasonably cold for being the middle of March but I did my best to ignore it, often layering on more clothes than I would've ever thought necessary. After putting on a pair of slipper socks, I made my way into the kitchen and began to fix myself some coffee.

Leaning against the counter I flipped through the channels of the TV in the corner of the living room, watching commercials and sitcoms with glassy eyes as the water heated up. There really was nothing interesting on television in Gotham besides the news, a fact that never escaped me with its irony. I instead flipped to the news channel to see what was happening. Besides the recurring report on Arkham's recently escaped patients and a half dozen sightings of Batman trying to capture them, there was really nothing else to watch. As the water started to boil I decided to just pick a movie to watch from Selina's limited DVD collection.

About 10 minutes later I was all curled up on the couch, hot cup of coffee in my hands with a blanket curled around me as the opening credits of The Aristocats began to play. A small smirk lit up my face at Selina's choice of movie, but I knew I'd never mention it to her. I was just about to take the first sip of my coffee when a crack of thunder resonated throughout the room. I didn't jump at all, thanks to my bat training, but my nerves were on edge, especially as I began to hear the curious sound of yowling coming from the hallway outside of the apartment door. My interest piqued, and my body too jittery to sit, I decided to let my bat senses take hold and investigate.

Tying the blanket around my neck like a fuzzy cape, I untangled my legs from each other and stood from the couch, looking through the peephole of the door cautiously. Seeing nothing yet still hearing the strange yowling. I unlocked the door, opening it slowly to see a large wet thing dripping on the carpet outside the apartment door. It was the brown cat that had taken a particular liking to me, dripping wet as if it had been out in the rain for hours. The cat was shivering and once it caught sight of me the yowling stopped as if backed away a few inches to show a small, filthy black kitten curled up in a tiny ball. Its fur was wet as well, matted and tangled in some places. I could see the kitten's ribs sticking up sharply through its fur and knew it had to be a stray.

With the smallest gasp of shock I bent down to my knees and cupped my hands under the sopping wet kitten, picking it up gently in my palms. I could feel it shaking in my hands, dependent now on the warm it was receiving from me. As I picked it up, the kitten lifted its head the barest bit and cracked open its eyes which were caked with dirt and grime to show clear blue pupils, letting out a small meow of thanks, at least, that's what I assumed it was.

Closing the door, I made my way into the kitchen, creating a little bed for the kitten out of a dishcloth and settling it safely on the counter as I began to dry it off with a wash cloth, careful not to hurt it. I soon realized the cat's matted fur on one side was due to a large cut that followed its whole body. Biting my lip I wet the washcloth a bit and started to clean the cut, trying not to think about how brittle and bony and fragile the cat was. After cleaning the cut I fished out some gauze from the bathroom and applied a thin layer of ointment to keep away infections, wrapping the cut up tenderly with enough room for the cat to breath. With another towel I began to dry it off once more, taking the cat carefully into my hands again, trying to warm it up as quickly as I could.

As I worked, the brown cat sat on the counter across from us, watching vigilantly as it cleaned the water from its fur. It was almost as if the brown cat was making sure the small black kitten was going to be okay, as if it were its guardian making sure I was taking the proper care of it. It was about ten minutes later when the kitten was finally dry, its fur sticking out in strange ways as the gauze mussed it about. It seemed the kitten had drudged up enough strength to stand on its own, and began tromping around the countertops with little high pitched meows that almost made me gag on the cuteness. Digging through the cabinets in the kitchen I finally found a small can of wet cat food and set it out for the kitten, watching with fascination as it turned from a frail animal to a savage predator, attacking the food with such ferocity it wasn't hard to confirm the fact it was a stray.

All the while the brown cat continued to stare, looking over the black kitten protectively with a fierce look in its eyes. I tried to help the adult cat dry off more than its tongue could do, but the cat refused to break its sight off the kitten, which had already devoured half of the can in the short time I'd set it out. Looking from the cat to the kitten a little smile bloomed its way across my face as I connected the dots.

"Brown cat…" I started, pointing to the usually affectionate cat which was now ignoring me. "You brought home a hurt stray, and now you're watching over it. You know it has no one else but you." I looked to the little kitten, which had now finished the cat of cat food and was cautiously walking around on the slippery counter surface. "You're an orphan, cold and abandoned until someone came to your rescue and found compassion in their heart to help you, possibly from a past experience that they had." The cats simultaneously looked at me, as if they could sense I was actually onto something here. My smile only grew wider as I gestured to both of them. "Don't you guys see? You're Batman and Robin!" The kitten meowed at me in what I assumed was agreement while the brown cat seemed to be smirking at me.

"That's just too cute," I chuckle to myself, pushing myself off the counter I was leaning on to clean up the cat food bowl. "The Dynamic Duo in feline form, can't wait to tell Selina, she's gonna get a kick out of this." I felt something nudge my elbow and I looked to see the kitten, greatly strengthened after its meal, rubbing its head on my arm in what I hoped was appreciation. I looked down at it as it stared back up at me with those large blue eyes.

"You know," I start, wiping the water off my hands onto my leggings and picking up the cat. "You remind me a lot of Robin. You even look like him, black hair, blue eyes." The cat looks at me blankly and I can tell it really has no idea what I'm saying. "Maybe I should call you Gray, or Robin or something." It almost seemed as if the cat wrinkled its nose up at this, looking displeased. "Okay okay!" I laughed at the expression, wondering how a cat could be so human-like. "What about Richard? No, that's too long for a cat. Rob wouldn't work… Hm…" I frowned and looked closely at the cat who only stared back at me.

"I got it!" I exclaimed as if having an epiphany. "You're going to be Ricky, named after Richard Grayson." If a cat could look pleased, this one definitely did. I smiled a little wider at this, bending down to set the cat on the floor, wanting to give it a chance to explore the apartment. From the counter the brown cat still watched it's every move, more stoic than I had ever seen it.

"You know," I started, talking to the cat as if it were a human. "If I named the kitten then you need to be called something as well." The cat gave a little meowing grunt and I assumed it was in agreement. "And there's really only one thing I can call you without being too obvious. You're Wayne." The brown cat's tail twitched back and forth as its eyes still trailed the kitten, which had just gotten into a large pile of magazines that Selina had strewed in the corner.

"Wayne and Ricky…" I muse to myself with a smile as I go back to the couch and start the movie over from the beginning. I hadn't even been sitting for a full minute when Ricky the kitten had bounded over to me, tumbling gracelessly along the floor with his gangly kitten legs. When he reached the couch he attempted to pounce atop it, but with no luck. A loud thump from the kitchen alerted the two of us to the brown cat's presence, who only stooped down to grab Ricky by the scruff before jumping onto the sofa, dropping the kitten into my lap. Ricky curled up between my legs while Wayne leaned his entire body weight against my leg, his head on my knee where he could keep an eye on Ricky. The kitten already seemed to be asleep, though, and I smiled to myself as I leaned over to grab my coffee from the magazine table in front of me, not even minding that it was now cold.

"Who needs the Dynamic Duo when I've got you guys?" I ask the cats quietly. The kitten only gives a small little sigh in its sleep, though Wayne replies again with a grunt, as if he couldn't agree more.


	12. OTP Challenge: Day One, Holding Hands

"It's a nice day out," Mona stated as she and Dick walked along the streets of Gotham. It was one of those wonderful days between the end of summer and the beginning of fall when the world was just barely getting the memo that the weather had to start cooling down. They wore light jackets and walked along, side by side, going nowhere and everywhere for as long as they pleased.

Dick responded only by looking up at the sky, the rare beams of sunlight shining down on his face, illuminating his blue eyes so that they practically glowed a vibrant cerulean colour, shaking his hair out of his face. "The sun's out," he says and Mona rolls her eyes at his obvious statement.

"Thanks for that tidbit of information, Boy Blunder," she scoffs, laughing a little under her breath as Dick nudges her with his shoulder playfully. As he does so, their hands bump, just in the slightest way, skin brushing again skin for maybe a few seconds at the most. But Dick takes advantage of it, catching the tips of Mona's fingers and lightly lacing them with his. He gives her hand a gentle squeeze as they walk along and Mona has to bow her head to hide her blush, biting her lip to make her wide grin just a little more subtle.

From the corner of his eye Dick catches it all, a little smile playing at the corner of his lips as well as the two walk closer together. "Yea," he finally agrees, giving a little nod to himself as Mona cocks her head to get a slightly better look at him. "It is a nice day."


	13. OTP Challenge:Day Two,Cuddling Somewhere

Another round of shots was fired off somewhere in the distance as Mona and Dick huddled together in a small crevice in the wall of an old building in downtown Gotham that might have at one point been a window. Dick pressed Mona carefully up against the crumbling bricks, his arms around her as if trying to shield her in every way possible. More shots were heard, this time closer by at least 20 feet. The fight was coming to them and in civilian dress there was nothing they could do about it.

"You always take me on the best dates," Mona comments under her breath with a little sarcastic edge to her voice. By now Dick could recognize when it was supposed to funny and when it was supposed to be biting and he instantly knew Mona was only trying to make light of the situation.

"They're always memorable," Dick agrees quietly as a shriek of anger and agony rings out in the suddenly quiet streets of Gotham. For a while it's almost silent and the two think the fight is over until the shooting starts up once more, getting closer and closer to the pair. Subconsciously Dick presses himself even more against Mona until the only place her arms can really fit is between them as she holds on the front of his jacket, his arms curling around her protectively.

"I mean, dinner, a movie, and now a cuddle session during a shoot-out? What more could a girl ask for?" Mona's voice is a whisper now but there's still a teasing lilt to it. Dick bows his head to touch his forehead to hers, and as he talks his breath rustles the short hair around her face slightly.

"Most would ask for a restraining order." Mona has to muffle her laughter as the sound of the gunmen's voices carry closer and closer to the pair.

"You kidding, Batboy?" she asks, her golden brown eyes flickering up to meet his bright blue ones. "I live for moments like these."


	14. OTP Challenge: Day Three, Gaming

Day 3: Gaming

"What's it called again?" Dick asked Mona as he sat next to her on the Wayne living room couch. On both their laps sat Dick's laptop, where Mona had just finished downloading a game.

She smirks a little, settling closer to him. "It's called _Slender_," she says as the title screen pops up saying the same thing. "Apparently it's pretty scary." The directions appeared, telling the two to collect 8 notes and they prepared themselves as Mona took the mouse while Dick was in charge of moving them around.

"Let's go this way!" Mona demands, facing a random direction as Dick begins to move the character around.

"How are we supposed to even find these notes?" Dick asks her, dutifully making the character walk forward.

"I guess they're like stuck up on trees or something," Mona guessed, shrugging as the two passed through a mass of trees. After a while they happened upon a note stuck to an oddly tall and twisted tree. "_Don't look or it takes you_," Mona read, picking up the note. Immediately drums started up in the background. It was only a minute or so before they found the second one stuck to a large red building.

"_Always watches no eyes_?" Dick reads as they collect it. "Is that supposed to creep us out or something?" Just as he asks a glimpse of white causes Mona to let out an uncharacteristic screech, flailing as she did so causing the character to spin around in all sorts of directions.

"HE WAS RIGHT THERE!" she yells, pointing vaguely somewhere in the darkness of the game after she'd stopped shaking the character around. "DID YOU NOT SEE THAT?"

"See what?" Dick asks, trying to hold down a nervous laugh. He didn't want to admit the game was starting to creep him out a little but Mona's reaction had unnerved him. "There wasn't even anything there."

"Are you kidding?!" Mona shrieks, gaining control of the character and moving in the direction she assumed was the opposite of the one she'd seen the figure in. "He was freaking tall, his arms all lanky and way too long, and he was in a freaking suit. AND HE HAD NO FACE."

"It was probably a tree," Dick says trying to reassure himself. "There's a car over there or something, there's probably a note on it," he says gesturing over to the left side of the screen. It took Mona some internal convincing to actually start to move the character again after they'd been stationary for a few minutes or so. Dick tries to make haste as they move towards the truck, making the character run before realizing that the stamina on the person they were playing as was next to zero.

"Jesus Christ, they need to hit the gym," Mona mutters as they arrive to the car. An eerie beating of a drum echoes in the background and it sets their nerves on edge, though neither of them would admit it. Mona circles around the truck, seeing nothing until she's all the way around. Before picking up the note she gets as close to it as possible to read the scribbled writing. "_Don't turn around_…" she read before doing just so, seeing the tall suited man standing directly behind them. Both of them scream out, Dick shoving the laptop away from them as static crackles across the screen. Mona hides her face in her hands while Dick nearly flips off the sofa. Alfred walks past the doorway just as they simultaneously freak out, shaking his head a little bit as he watches the frightened teens.

After that day Mona and Dick agreed they'd never play Slender together again.


	15. Too Late

AN: Just something I wrote up in like 10 minutes, something to get me out of my writer's block funk :P Mona is Flamebird here (had to tell you cuz it's like not clear AT ALL) and it's not the greatest, but I'd been wanting to do something like this for a little while so here it is. Please read and review and enjoy.

Too Late

He's on the ground before I get to him and I can see the dark black-red blood spilling out of the wound in the middle of his torso. It splashes onto the concrete like some kind of macabre natural paint, colouring the rooftop a horrible crimson red. Under his domino mask I can see his eyes widen and I'm screaming before I even reach him, falling to my knees, yanking out his eskrima stick from his chest where it had been lodged. Blood starts to trail out of his mouth now; he's choking on it as it runs down his cheeks and stains his costume where it covers his neck. Tears are falling hot and salty down my cheeks, burning my face under the Flamebird mask. I tear it off, not even caring who saw me. I can hear a loud cold cackle behind me, and I know it's the Joker reveling in his latest success. The Joker had killed a Robin before, but now he'd bagged a much bigger bird.

"Nightwing!" I screech, one of my hands presses down on the wound using as much pressure as I can. Blood seeps through my fingers, hot and sticky even through the thick material of my gloves. He gasps a little bit, staring at me as I'm desperately trying and failing to save him. "No, stop, you can do this, c'mon Nightwing we can get through this!" I can barely speak through my sobs as a bright little smile lights up his face. His lips are coated in blood, smeared around his chin and up close to his nose. He almost looks like the Joker as his skin begins to pale.

"It's okay," he croaks, his voice low and hoarse. It sounds painful for him to talk. "Just keep talking, can you do that?" I give a strangled sob at his request, but he goes on as if I'd remained silent. "Please keep talking; I don't want to forget the sound of your voice…"

So I talk. I plead with him as he's on the edge of death, I cry for him, I console him, and I beg him not to leave me. His smile never leaves his face, in fact the more frantic I get the bigger the smile seems to grow, the more peaceful his expression gets. It's nearly 20 minutes later when I'm still hanging onto him, still begging for him to come back that I realize my hand staunching the blood from his wound lies against a cold body. Nightwing's face is completely white in the darkness, with that little blood smeared smile still on it. I hold my breath, my lungs screaming for air in seconds, as I lean forward, removing his simple domino mask. Underneath his eyes are closed. If he wasn't deathly white and covered in blood he could almost be sleeping.

I'd thought that I'd already gone through the worst of my breakdown as he lay dying next to me but when the mask comes off I find myself collapsing atop his corpse, my hands grabbing at his costume and his hair, beating against his chest, screaming at him to wake up, to come back. I'm not sure how long it is before I'm pried off the body, still thrashing and screaming as I'm dragged away. Strong arms hold mine down so that I can't move around anymore. All I do is sob, watching as Red Robin lies a black tarp over Dick's body, watching as his bloodstained face disappears from view for what I know is the last time. As the body is covered I seem to catch up with my adrenalin rush, and it soon deserts me. In seconds I'm as limp as a rag doll in my captor's arms and they have to support all of my weight themselves. I'm scooped up into their arms, but it's not friendly or romantic or comforting as it had always been when Dick had done it. It was awkward and stiff and cold. Instantly I knew this was Bruce. But how could it have been? Shouldn't Bruce have been throwing himself on the corpse of his first son as violently as I had?

I let the Batman lead me away, down off the rooftop, down into the Batmobile. By the time he buckles me in I know I'm in shock, my hands frozen in tightly clenched fists, my breaths coming in slow, calm intakes as the threat of sleep, or something worse, beckons me closer and closer with every wasted second. Batman drives fast to the Cave, but by the time he gets there I fall away to unconsciousness, terrified as to what lay within it.


	16. Too Late P2: Living Life with Jason Todd

AN: I've lately been pretty preoccupied with Mona/Jason interaction, and this is probably the darkest of them that I've written. I like the way the clash and compliment each other especially since I created Mona as a go together mostly for Dick. I just... They're interesting to me. This is Part 2 of Too Late. Parts 3 and 4 will be up sometime.

Living Life with Jason Todd

A lot had changed in the last 5 years. I had grown older and stronger, yet somehow was younger and weaker than I'd ever been in my entire life. For every new tidbit and piece of information I learned, another was kept away from me, locked behind some hidden door in his mind. And for every victory I thought I earned myself, he only dished out another failure for me turn on my heels and tend to my wounds. This was life living with Jason Todd.

I could never say I liked or disliked living with Jason. He provided all the means necessary for a comfortable life: food, shelter, clothing, and a warm place to sleep. He'd help me train every day, for hours at a time, usually until I could barely stand; my energy so far sapped from my body it was a miracle I'd make it back to the bedroom. And then when I thought it would all be over for the day, Jason would prove me wrong once again, having his way with me until he was pleased.

Life with Jason Todd was complicated. I never knew where I stood with this man. Sometimes I was his partner, the closest thing I could come to being an equal. Other times I was his slave, his punching bag, his medium for his anger. Other times I was just his toy. He'd bend me and break me and do what he wanted with me until he got bored, discarding me for a while like so many children do with their playthings.

But I knew from the very beginning that this life was better than any alternative I would've been offered had I stayed with Wayne and Drake at the Manor. They would've kept me inside all day, sheltered like I was a broken piece of glass no one could ever see. They'd try to rehabilitate me, to get me back to my old self though I knew it would never prevail. Eventually they'd send me to Arkham where I'd be housed amongst some of Gotham's worst and most insane villains, some of which I'd contributed in putting away. All because of one man's death all those years ago.

I still remember the night vividly. The news report that flashed over the tv in my apartment about Joker's escape, the amazing rush of putting on my suit to help Dick and company but the clown away, the bright lights and colours of search beams and costumes as we all flitted around Gotham for hours in a seemingly never ending wild goose chase. I remember the sound of Joker shooting Nightwing's own eskrima stick at him through his oversized gun. I remember Dick falling to the ground. I remember watching him die, getting dragged away by the man who'd raised Dick as his own.

After that I was never the same. I was damaged, I supposed. Broken, Jason liked to call me. He'd purr it in my ear on lazy nights, his fingers running up and down the bare skin of my arms. He'd leave scars, marks he'd call them. To show I was his. To show that he was the one who was going to take care of me now. I never questioned them, never questioned him. Jason was helping me. Jason was giving me an outlet for my damaged sanity. Because he understood what it was like to be impaired, to be broken.

He taught me his ways of killing, why he did it, how he did it, who he killed. He'd make me practice killing strokes hours and hours on end until my knees were buckling and hitting the practice mat, sweat drowning me and seeping into my eyes. It was almost a year before he finally let me come out on patrol with him. He got me up one night, none too kindly, and tossed me a charcoal grey jump suit. It was silky yet structured in my hands, durable with a hidden layer of armor that was light enough to be easy to move with. I slipped it on without a word; lacing up the black boots he'd told me went with it.

The suit was simple. A deep grey with black accents down my arms and the outside of my torso, down the outer seam of my legs. It was comfortable, easy to move in. It showed off how lean Jason had kept me over the year. Once I'd been strong, I'd been a warrior. Now I was on the brink of looking like a skeleton with just enough muscle to move. But it wasn't what the suit highlighted on my body that really got me. It was the logo stamped onto the front. It was _his_ logo, Dick's logo; the blue bird with its wings splayed upwards, except my bird's head was facing to the right and had more plumage at the bottom. Instead of being Dick's signature cobalt blue it was black, outlined in a blood red. This was my new symbol.

I walk out of the bedroom in the suit, feeling slightly awkward though it was beyond comfortable. I hadn't suited up in months and it felt strange to be doing it again. But Jason only smirked at me, handing me a blood red mask the same colour as his hood. I attach it on without a word, completing the look. No longer was I Mona Ryder, the broken remainder of the human that had once been. I was someone else, who, though, I didn't know yet. I look to Jason as he analyzes me, probably seeing how the suit fits. He meets my eyes with his; already covered by the domino mask he wore but not yet by the hood, and smirked.

"It fits," I state monotonously. He gives a little nod.

"You obviously noticed you're not an owl or a phoenix," he supplies, his voice smug and arrogant as it always was, as if he wanted to just sound as if he were four steps ahead of you. I nod at his remark, willing him to go on. "I wanted to perfect symbol for you, and I thought the modified one would do." I glance down at the bird once more, feeling nothing but a strange surge of familiarity run through me. I look back up at him, silently asking him to go on; to just spit out what I knew was eventually coming. My name.

"Yea, I like it too," he says, referring to the bird. My fingers twitch and his smirk grows wider. "Now what do you think of it, Winglet?"

Winglet. That was me. An obvious twist of Nightwing. I had part of his symbol, and now part of his name. Had any of my sanity been left I'm sure this would've torn it to shreds. But I only give a little nod once more. "Winglet," I say softly, feeling the word roll over my tongue. It was strange and foreign to me, but I knew I'd get used to it. Because it would be just like living life with Jason Todd.


	17. I Hold with Those Who Favour Fire

AN: This is somewhat of an AU little one shot. I used it to create a way to explore some Jason/Mona territory. Quick summary of previous events: Mona comes back to Gotham after being away for many years to find Dick Grayson as Batman with Bruce's son, Damian, as his Robin. Itching to don the cape and cowl again, Mona embarks out on patrol with them, where Firefly sets fire to a bank that quickly catches onto an adjoining apartment building. Mona and Damian are tasked to get through the fire and get people out of the apartment, forcing Mona to face her biggest fear.

I Hold with Those Who Favour Fire

It seemed to take an infinite amount of time, going through all the rooms on all the levels, helping people to exits. Some rooms were completely empty and a waste of time as I spent precious moments forcing my way through the door only to find it empty. Other times I had to lead smaller kids all the way to the ground floor. Occasionally I could get some help from others fleeing the building, but the going was extremely slow and the work was intense as the fire blazed on. It took me over half an hour to evacuate the 4th floor of the building. Hopefully by now Damian had finished with the top floors and was making his way out now.

I wondered if Dick was doing alright with the firebug when a shrieking crackle of feedback echoed throughout the comms unit in my ears, just as a crash erupted from the floor upstairs. I could hear a groan of pain, as if the person was trying their best not to cry out.

"What's going on?" Dick demands through the radio. He sounds like he's in the middle of a fight. He must have been still trying to get rid of the bad guy and his cronies. "Robin? Owlet?"

"The structure of the apartment is compromised," snapped Damian. He sounded like something was impeding his oratory.

"Robin, where are you?" I demand. I stopped dead in my tracks on my way out as people filed down the second floor stairs to get out of the building.

"5th floor," Damian groans. "Room 527. There were a couple of kids who were trying to get all their cats out."

"Are the kids okay?"

"They should've evacuated the building 20 minutes ago, they better be fucking okay."

"Then why are you still there?"

"There was a kitten scared under the sofa, okay? I was trying to get her out. The wall collapsed and scared her away. I think she's alright," Damian reported as if this was any other happenstance in Gotham on a regular night for the duo. I was perplexed, to say the least. I never would've pegged him as a cat person. Barreling up the stairs, I reach the 5th floor and search the room numbers, seeing that 527 has to be all the way at the end of the hall, hidden by a wall of flames that made my heart sink in my chest.

"O-okay," I stuttered into the comms unit. "I'll be there in a second, Robin."

"Mind speeding that second up?" he growls. "These uniforms are flame resistant, not non-combustible."

I don't answer him as I take in a shaky breath. Just run through it. That's all you've got to do. Hurry, Damian needs your help. On the count of 3. 1… 2…

"3!" I screech, sprinting towards the flames. I squeeze my eyes shut. Instantly I can feel the pressure of the air pressing down on my lungs even through the meek gas mask I'd slipped on earlier. My entire chest feels like it's going to explode as the heat around me makes sweat begin to seep into my eyes. Blinking through the flames I can see there are only a few doors at this end of the hallway, maybe 3 or 4. The only one that's open is at the very end, and above the crackling flames I can hear distant coughing from inside.

"Robin!" I cry, trying to make my way through the flaming wreckage. It all just looks red to me. For now my body has stopped registering that I'm amidst a blazing inferno. For now it's just a little warm and sounds like someone's making popcorn with all the crackles and pops reverberating around me. I get to the door, covering my face with my arms as debris rains down from the ceiling. He's directly across the room, pinned under a layer of bricks and plaster and steel, most of it flaming as it crushed Robin.

I rush to him as fast as I can, bending down to push some of the debris off. Damian is fading, I can tell. His breaths are ragged and slow. I don't even weigh the pros and cons as I take off my gas mask, slipping it onto the boy's face. It seemed to help a little bit, but I knew I'd have to do more if I was to save him. More plaster and bricks rained down around us, but I was able to clear the worst of it off Damian until only a long, heavy sheet of metal from the ceiling support remained.

"Damian!" I yelled as my voice became hoarser with the smoke circling around us. I hoped he heard me. "On 3 I'm going to lift this up and you have to get out of here. Okay?"

Though parts of his uniform were completely burned out in places and his face was smudged with soot and his hair filled with ashes, Damian manages to give me a feeble nod.

"One!" I screeched, my lungs burning as I did so. I gave a hacking cough that brought tears to my eyes. "Two!" another crash alerted me to the fire deteriorating the walls and supports in the hallway. I needed to work fast. "Three!" My voice was little more than a hoarse mess at this point but Robin got the message. I groaned with the exertion of pushing the beam, and soon began to yelp as the metal burned through the palms of my gloves. Damian wriggled his way out, looking relatively unharmed, crawling away from the mess.

After slamming the beam down, making even more of the building crumble atop us, I helped him to his feet, still knelt down, trying to catch my breath, which was coming in gasping and rattling pants. I pushed Damian towards the door, watching as he stumbled there, latching onto the doorframe to keep from falling over. He paused, looking back at me. Part of his domino had been burnt off, revealing a single brown eye. In it was a feeling I couldn't read. Thanks? Sympathy? Superiority? Confusion? Anyone's guess was as good as mine. He still stood there as the ceiling started to collapse and only moved when I yelled "GO!" waving my hand to signal him to leave. He was going in an instant, just as the top of the doorframe fell down in a flaming mess, right where Damian had been standing moments before.

I tried to let out a breath of relief but it only came out as a choking cough that forced me into a ball as I tried vainly to expel the smoke from my lungs. I knew I had to get out of the building, but escape seemed slimmer and slimmer as each agonizing second flew by. I looked up, seeing the black and yellow and orange apartment around me, hearing the roaring of flames in my ears. I was just starting to crawl to the door, to the only way I saw freedom, as the entire ceiling gave out. Pipes smashed down above me as the insulation quick ignited and made the fire burn 10 times brighter. I was blinded as the remnants of the air ducts tumbled down, and soon felt a pressure forcing my leg to the floor. I was pinned down, much as Damian had been minutes before.

And in seconds I was 13 again, experiencing the lab fire raging around me. All my senses were abuzz: My eyes taking in the all-consuming flames, my ears listening as the house I grew up in crashed down around me. I could taste the soot and smell burning flesh. My own. Once it had been the burning log on my stomach, and now it was a section of red hot metal scorching my leg. I could feel it burning through the suit, branding my skin, and it hurt more than anything I'd ever been through. But my voice, choked with smoke, refused to let me scream.

So with a final sob I collapse into the burned remains of the carpet, feeling my leg being crushed and burned, my body being scorched and cooked, my lungs being coated with soot and ash, and I gave up. My life had come to a full circle. The parents I'd loved so dearly had died in a fire like this one, and finally I was going to join them.

Another crash echoed through the building but I assumed it was more debris breaking off from the main infrastructure. I only hoped the building would collapse and crush me before I had a chance to be burned alive. The crashes started to become more regular and got closer and closer until they were right outside the room. They stopped altogether and through the flames and fire I heard a voice.

"Long time no see, Ryder," the voice, obviously male, chuckles. They step into the room, apparently not fazed by the fire. In seconds I'm freed out from under the duct, and scooped up into a pair of strong, steady arms. The person runs back out of the building, but I'm barely conscious enough to see where they're going, much less who they are. But when we get out into the cool night air I gasp some in desperately, my lungs pleading for more.

Finally, I turn my gaze up to look at the mystery rescuer. He was a broad shouldered man, maybe in his early to mid-20s, with a charming face, squared with a strong jaw. His eyes are covered by a red domino mask but the streak of white hair amongst the black hanging down in his face is immediately a tell-tale sign of who he is.

"Jason," I croak out in disbelief. It had been years since I'd last seen him. He was 15. I was getting into my 20s. I remembered how unsteady his and Bruce's relationship was. I didn't hear much else about him until it was reported to me that he was dead, murdered by the Joker. It was another few years before the news came to me that he'd been raised from the dead, out of a Lazarus Pit. I had no idea he was even back in Gotham.

"Surprised?" he asks. He gives a smirk. His voice is deeper than I'd expected, with a comical tone that's overlaid with a deep set seriousness. If I hadn't been nearly dead from the fire I might've actually internally melted at the sound of his voice, as stupid as it sounds. Jason was not the angry little Robin I remembered him to be. He was a man who knew his place in life, a man with self-confidence that attracted women like bugs to a flame. Jason was a man who knew how to play up his strengths to cover up his weaknesses, that much was obvious with a single glance.

My vision was bad, to say the least, but I was still able to see Batman and Robin standing side by side (or rather Robin leaning heavily on Batman for support). Robin was almost completely covered in soot, while Batman looked nearly unscathed. Apparently his side of the disaster went over much more smoothly. I couldn't see their expressions, with or without their masks, but I heard Dick give a low grunt while Damian gave a single hiss.

"Red Hood," Batman says with a little comical lilt in his voice. He doesn't seem to register Jason is cradling a nearly dead Owlet in his arms. "What brings you back to Gotham, Jay-Bird?"

"Same thing that keeps you here; fighting crime. Saving people from fires, today though," he says casually. Gently he rearranges his arm positions, bobbing my head to rest comfortably against his chest. Through the smoky-fire smell I catch the scent of blood. Against the uncovered section of my face I can feel the worn but durable linen of his thick jacket. "And your little Birdie here got quite scorched."

"We need to get her back to the Cave," Dick says immediately as if just registering that I'm actually hurt. He sounds slightly panicked but he hides it well behind a mask of semi-carelessness. Damian has yet to react, and only casts his eyes down to the ground.

"He's not coming," Robin says instantly. His voice, marred by the inhaled smoke, is gravelly and thick, like it's difficult for him to speak.

"So quick to judge, little brat," Jason sighs, adjusting me against his body once more. If I didn't know better I would say Jason was just keeping me closer to him as he supported my head and neck with his hand. But I knew he was using me as a bargaining chip, threating to break my neck if Dick and Damian didn't comply with his plan. He wanted into the Batcave or the Manor for one reason or another, and I was his ticket in there. Although I knew that Alfred would be more than happy to accept the past Robin back into his home, and even Dick would be lenient enough to accept Jason back. It was really Damian who needed the convincing, and Jason knew just how to arrange that.

Dick barely reacts to this, calling Jason's bluff immediately though Damian doesn't see through the trick as easily. The boy snarls, his expression darkening as Dick physically pushes him back from taking a step towards Jason. "Fine, you're coming with us, Hood," Dick says, seeming to give into Jason's demands although the three of us know it's really just a show to keep Damian thinking he knows what's happening.

"Don't sound so enthusiastic, Batty. Gosh, I thought you'd be a little more concerned about your girlfriend." Jason sounds disappointed, still playing his part up for the young Robin to buy into.

"She's not my girlfriend," Dick says smoothly. I can barely see the miniscule side glance Damian gives the older man before looking back forward at me and Jason. Dick fishes a remote from his utility belt, pressing a button that I assume is for the Bat-Mobile on auto-pilot.

"Play down the animosity, Batsy. It's okay to have crushes." It's impossible to mistake the smugness in Jason's voice, even as I begin to filter in and out of consciousness, the pain in my leg becoming a dull burn. It was almost easy to ignore Dick's attempts to be nonchalant, especially considering how Jason seemed to be taking up most of the attention.

"Just get her into the Bat-Mobile, Todd," Batman sighs as the vehicle flies down to meet us, landing on the pavement without a sound. We're far enough away from the action that the civilians, fire fighters and policemen don't notice us.

"Yes, sir!" Jason said as if Dick were a drill sergeant. The top of the car/plane opened up and Jason was able to set me down on the backseat. He climbed in easily after me, carefully propping my legs up on his lap. He analyzed my injured leg as he did so, something I hadn't yet been able to bring myself to do.

"Looks really bad, Birdie," Jason says to me, whistling low and quiet. He tries to move my leg to get a better look. Pain shoots up it, like it's on fire again and I do my best not to cry out. I bite down on my tongue, clutching tightly onto Jason's jacket. He stops moving my leg, giving a little chuckle.

"Yea, looks like it hurts. But you'll be fine. Doesn't look like permanent nerve damage, but you should be careful with it," Jason tells me, patting the hand clutching onto his pants tightly.

"Thanks, Doc" I say through gritted teeth. "I'll be sure to take advice from the guy who's been dead before." My voice is weak but the sarcasm is still present. I'm not sure if I imagine it due to delusions brought on by my current state, but I think I see Jason flinch, his jaw clenching up. Seconds later the looks is replaced by a charming smile as Dick and Dami finally climb into the Bat-Mobile and close everything up, taking off.

"That should be even more incentive to listen to me," he says with a devil-may-care laugh. He slips off the domino easily to show bright green eyes that wink down at me. "How many people do you know that have come back from the dead?"

"Only you, Red," I groan through the pain. "But who knows when that'll change."

"Hopefully no time soon," Batman chimes from the front seat under his breath. Jason gives another little chuckle, this one colder than the first.

"It's not as bad as it sounds, Grayson." His voice… something about it haunts me to my very core. But as Jason cautiously slips my cowl off, brushing my hair from my eyes, I forget all about the uneasy feeling. My eyes flutter closed as the light sensation spreads over me, distracting me from the pain. "Get some rest, Birdie," he tells me quietly, his palm cupping my cheek as he rubs soot and sweat off my face with his thumb. "You've earned it."

And seemingly against my own wishes, my eyes droop more and more until they're completely closed and the last thing I feel as I drift off into an uneasy and dreamless unconsciousness is Jason softly caressing my skin.


	18. Nightmare

AN: Set a week or so after the fire incident, just some Mona/Jason bonding time. I can't help it that they're freaking adorable, okay?

Nightmare

The first night I went to sleep without pain meds was the first night of many nightmares. As I went to sleep the aches in my leg were just dull and easy to ignore. I fell asleep in matter of minutes, and that's when the nightmares began. My world was aflame, everything burning with the red orange fingers of fire. My skin was blackened to a crisp, but so were my lungs, so I couldn't scream in pain no matter how desperately I wanted to. In front of me were my parents, clinging to one another, wailing and screeching in agony. "Why didn't you save us?" They moan. "Why was it only you that got out of the fire?" I want to tell them that I couldn't have saved them, that I tried, that I almost died myself trying to get back to them. But my lungs, now charred, only allowed me to open my mouth in horror as if I was terrified of these two people before me. Flames began to ignite their clothing and hair as they screamed in unison, louder and louder. I find that when I try to move the flames have melted my muscles away. I'm stuck, not alive, not dead, forced to watch my parent's murder once again as they ask me why I was the one who got out.

I wake with a start, the trapped scream from my nightmare echoing out before I can stop it. My face is hot and itchy and wet with tears and I'm shaking and trembling as I try to wipe them away. My leg is on fire now but it's not the worst pain I'm experiencing. The horror of seeing my parents die once was enough. Seeing them die again, this time in so much more of a brutal and awful way was worse agony than I could've ever imagined.

I don't even realize I'm whimpering until an arm curls around my shoulder as if trying to shield me from the horrors inside my head. They rest a hand atop my head, soothing me as they pet my hair softly, slowly, uttering low and unintelligible calming words. For a moment my shaking gets worse with the fear of the nightmare combined with the uncertainty of who this is, until they pull me closer to them, my head practically next to theirs.

"Hey, calm down, Birdie," Jason soothes. The instant I hear his low, smooth voice I begin to relax, letting out a sigh of relief. I can't stop myself from shaking, but I'm able to start breathing slower, trying to calm myself down.

"What are you doing here?" I ask hoarsely, my voice barely over a whisper. I find myself clinging onto the front of Jason's shirt when he readjusts himself to get more comfortable as he still comforts me.

"We knew you were going without the meds tonight so we decided to cycle out, keeping watch on you for a few hours if anything like this happened," he told me, his breath warm on my neck. Without really meaning to, I cuddle up to Jason, feeling suddenly cold in my room. His arms curls around my shoulders so that his hand rests on my back, making soft spiral patterns with his fingers that both tickles and relaxes me. I'm practically curled into his side now, my legs brought up so that my knees are by my stomach, my head resting on top of his chest. I can feel each time he takes a breath. It's slow and rhythmic and oddly beautiful, as if the sound of him just being alive is enough to make him breathtaking. After a while of close listening I can hear his heart beat as well. I rest my hand on his stomach, tapping in beat with his heart. Jason chuckles as he realizes what I'm doing, and it's a deep sound that I can hear all throughout his lungs. The only times I'd ever heard Jason laugh, they'd always been cold and cruel, just another part of the shell he out up, the persona he wanted everyone to believe him to have. But this was so lighthearted, so sincere that I couldn't help but be surprised.

"You won't go until I'm asleep, will you?" I ask him after silence had settled over us for maybe 10 minutes. Jay rests his calloused and warm hand on top of mine that rested on his stomach, lightly running his scarred thumb over my knuckles.

"Not unless you want me to," he says smoothly. I can hear the slightest hint of a smirk in his voice, but it's not condescending in the least. To answer him I bury my face in his shirt, clutching onto him as if I was afraid he'd just disappear. It's impossible not to drink in his smell as I do so, surprised to find how different from Dick it is. There's still the smell of smoke on him, but its cigarette smoke rather than fire smoke, and faintly there. I can detect the slight aroma of after shave or some type of cologne, just subtle enough to notice but not overpowering at all. It's a smell I'm not familiar with, but a welcoming one without a doubt.

"Of course I won't leave, Birdie," Jay mutters in my hair, planting a soft kiss on the top of my head. "I'll stay here as long as you need me." Something in his voice, and in my mind, tells me that Jason wasn't just talking about the two of us right now. There was something permanent in his voice, something lasting. If I was stupid I might've called it a promise. But either way, Jay and I both knew he wasn't going anywhere for a long time. And for some reason, that fact comforted me more than soft words ever could.


End file.
